


The Detention Assignment

by InfiniteInMystery



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Chris is just trying to do his best, Horror, Humor, Hurt, Kinda Monstercon, Leon is a mess, M/M, Maybe comfort, Monsters, Mostly Canon Compliant, No beta we die with our mistakes, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Not Mr X But Basically Mr X, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Knotting, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Werewolves, beastiality, mentions of Jack Krauser, relationship if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteInMystery/pseuds/InfiniteInMystery
Summary: After breaking his hand on a recruit's face, Chris is on extended modified-duty to avoid being temporarily suspended. After returning from Spain and proving to be completely unstable, Leon's every word and move is being scrutinized. The president's solution? To send them together off American soil to prove they're not turning rogue and can still do their jobs properly and maybe help each other along the way.It's a simple assignment below their pay grade. But as expected, Leon can't stay out of trouble ten minutes after drop-off.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield
Comments: 11
Kudos: 112





	1. Cardio Improves Endurance But You Can't Outrun Your Problems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rnachine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rnachine/gifts).



> I want to thank a certain someone for introducing me to this whump-galore series recently.
> 
> I have nothing else to say for myself. Enjoy.

**[Wednesday, April 1, 18:00]**

“My daughter has passed away.” President Graham said, and it hit Leon harder than the rumors had, harder than the anticipation had. He hadn't paid the whispers that had sprung up a few hours ago any mind knowing that if it was true, Ashley would have made the news. Knowing that if it was true, the President would want to talk to Leon about it himself and that was the only confirmation Leon would ever believe.

But the second Leon's phone had rung, the President's name flashing on the screen, Leon's stomach had knotted and he had already _known_. This was worse than his worst-case scenario.

He had messed up. Inadvertently, this was his fault.

In the President's spacious office, the President himself sat down at his desk, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh and a heavy heart. The room stiflingly warm and windowless, only half the fluorescent lights on to give the man a sense of mourning. The walls were closing in all around Leon, holding him hostage. The President looked tired, his old eyes sliding up to Leon standing awkwardly across the desk from him, eyes suspicious and mistrusting.

Leon's hands suddenly went cold, wondering if perhaps _he_ was the reason Ashley Graham hadn't survived more than a month home from Spain, wondering if _he_ was the reason she was suddenly gone from this world. Wondering if _he_ had made an error somewhere, an error that had cost Ashley her life. He didn't know how she had died, but she was dead, and Leon felt like her blood was staining his hands. He stared at the President, his mouth just as dry as his eyes, his thoughts circling through self-blame, self-blame, and more self-blame. What _hadn't_ he done to save her? What could have even gone wrong? It was the Plagas, wasn't it? _Ashley turned. I'm next._

He hadn't even reached out to her since they had gotten back.

“I'm sorry for your loss.” Leon said, suddenly realizing that it had been more than a moment and he hadn't responded to the President's jarring statement. The words were mechanical, but he meant them even if it didn't sound like he did. He suddenly felt dizzy, clasped his hands behind his back, standing at attention, dreading that he was about to be blamed.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Leon asked. He would fly back to Spain if he had to. He didn't even know what had happened to her, but he already felt personally responsible and he would _do what needed to be done_ _,_ whatever that entailed.

“I have but a question for you.” The President said, his eyes still locked on Leon, still heavy with what Leon assumed was grief or suspicion. Leon didn't blame him for the questioning, didn't blame him for the suspicion at all. If anyone knew what had gone wrong in Spain, it would be Leon. If anyone had any secrets to spill, it was Leon.

 _Stop assuming this is about Spain. Maybe… maybe it was something else? Someone else tried to abduct her_ _on her way home from school_ _? Killed her instead?_ Leon let his next exhale hang longer than the rest, trying to calm himself, balance himself.

“Of course. I will answer anything.” Leon said. He stood a little straighter, steeled his face into stubborn determination to hide the anxiety.

“Is there anything...” The President started, his voice coming out emotionless and raw, “… and I mean _anything_ , that happened in Spain that perhaps you… suddenly realize you forgot to report?”

It was Leon's only chance to come clean.

“No.” Leon said automatically so he sounded honest because if he hesitated he would seal his own fate. He'd have to explain. He'd either have to make up an excuse and lie straight to the President's face, or tell him the truth and accept the consequences. Both of those options made Leon's stomach slosh, nausea rising in the back of his throat.

The only thing Leon had failed to mention had been Jack Krauser and his ruthless hands, and that was something Leon intended to keep to himself. The island was gone, blown to smithereens by Ada Wong, Jack Krauser's dead body with it. There was nothing left to prove Jack Krauser had been there, nothing left to prove what Jack Krauser had done to Leon in the past, had tried to do again. On his back in the dirt with a hand wrapped tightly around his throat, Leon had shot Krauser in the face at point-blank before wasting an entire clip to make sure he was dead, _really_ dead.

And most importantly, Jack Krauser had nothing to do with Ashley, which meant Leon's secret still wouldn't hurt anyone but himself. Krauser hadn't killed Ashley; Krauser hadn't even been in contact with her besides the initial abduction, was sure Ashley would have mentioned him. He was unimportant to the report because he was dead and he couldn’t come back and try again.

_Unless..._

“What if I were to tell you that she came… she came home pregnant?” The President asked so casually that Leon almost didn't immediately understand what the words meant.

He stared dumbly for a moment, eyes on the President in confusion, before both the understanding and horror dawned on him. He couldn't help but notice how critical the man was looking at him, how _accusingly._ It had only been one month since they had returned – Leon hadn't even known Ashley was- when did she-

Leon's face suddenly burned with fury because _no_ , Leon didn't have _anything to fucking do with that,_ before that fury froze into ice-cold fear. Even if the President wasn't accusing _him_ of taking advantage of her, he was still accusing Leon for _letting it happen_ , even if Krauser had done _something_ before Leon had even been deployed. Leon wouldn't put it past Krauser to resort to sexual violence, but he also knew Krauser had only really taken to it when he needed the control, when he was fed up and frustrated, which he wouldn't have felt with Ashley's compliance. Which reminded Leon of-

“I didn't know.” Leon said honestly, eyebrows furrowing, because Krauser aside, Leon suddenly remembered that one particular moment down in the lab when he had been searching for Ashley, scanning the security cameras just to find her held down by a couple of grunts in a backroom. They had been getting handsy with her, had turned off the camera relatively quickly. When Leon had finally gotten down there maybe fifteen minutes later, half an hour at worst, Ashley had been crying. But she had hugged him in relief and told him she was okay and that they needed to go. And despite Leon's worry, despite his suspicions and concerns, they hadn't had _time_.

So he had never asked her what had happened, and she had just simply never told him.

The President's gaze didn't waver. “Are you sure you don't remember anything else?”

“I'm sure.” Leon said, because what would it change? The island was gone. What _could have_ happened to Ashley wasn't even caught on camera so there was no proof, be it Krauser or the grunts or even a secret boyfriend she had met up with minutes before her abduction. She had been in Spain for days before Leon had even known she'd been abducted – there was no way to know _who_ or _when_. There was no way for the President to confirm anything Leon might suggest, so there was no reason for Leon to leave the man with those thoughts to dwell over and forever wonder about. The _what if._ Ashley was gone and there was nothing that would bring her back now.

Leon kept his mouth shut, all the thoughts in his head starting to sound like one big fat excuse.

The President looked him over for a prolonged second, eyes searching desperately for _something_ , anything, like he wanted a solid reason, wanted proof to lay his questions to rest. But unfortunately, Leon couldn't give that to him because he simply just didn't know the answer for sure.

“I'm sorry I'm not of help.” Leon said. The frustration came through, his eyes casting down as he thought, wondered, over-analyzed every moment they had been together, wondering if there had been signs. Had she been raped down there in the lab, when Leon was sneaking around with the Regenerador? Or had it happened before Leon had even stepped foot in Spain? He didn't think there had been any signs to indicate that she had been hurt like that, though he knew first hand how easy those signs were to hide.

If anyone should have noticed, it should have been Leon. The frustration crashed back over him.

“The fetus...” The President took a breath, shifting in his chair uncomfortably before raising his eyes back up to Leon. Leon froze, already expecting the worse because he hadn't expected the conversation to continue this way.

“The fetus was infected. It was already a BOW.”

Leon stared, his mouth firmly shut because he simply didn't know what to say. What could he say? Apologize? Gasp? The way it was sounding, Spain had turned out to be a fucking disaster and Leon hadn't saved shit. He had just prolonged the inevitable, if not made it all worse, and earned himself some new traumas along the way before watching everything crumble through his own fingertips.

“Are you… sure?” Leon asked stupidly, eyebrows creasing, a pit forming in his stomach.

“I had her autopsy done on-site. I went down to confirm the reports.” The President sighed again, and _God_ , the man must have gone through hell over the past twenty-four hours. Leon didn't even know what to say, simply stared with his mouth firmly shut. What could he say? What could he do? What did the President want from him now?

“In the report, you stated that you found a UV machine to kill the Plaga inside of you.” The President said. “Both my medical examiners and my scientists say it didn't work. At least, not in the permanent way that you thought. The Plaga survived.”

Leon's eyebrows furrowed, confusion leaving him dizzy. _It didn't work?_

“They're not sure… what happened, but the... fetus... has the genome of the Plagas. While the virus in my daughter wasn't the Plaga in the sense that you described, it was still a sort of hybrid. A mutation. It's possible you only rendered the Plaga dormant, if not just a dormant egg for another virus to take over and mutate.” The President said. He sounded so tired. “So. With that said. I need to ask you to go down to the medical facility and have yourself checked out. If that Plaga is still within you, we need to deal with it sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.” Leon said, his mouth suddenly dry. He was suddenly hot and cold and winded all at the same time, somehow remained on his feet out of pure stubbornness. “Of course. I'll go down there.”

“Good.” The President said. He sighed again, standing up. “Thank you for your cooperation, Agent Kennedy. I want to be clear with you: I don't blame you for what has happened to my daughter. You did your job; you brought her back to me. And for that, I thank you. It is just… unfortunate. This turn of events. I wish she had reached out to me, or even you. Anyone.”

Standing, Leon nodded, eyes still cast down in understanding. Not only for the President's frustration but for Ashley's reluctance to share and ask for help. “I… thank you for your trust in me.”

“There's one more thing, before you go.” The President waited for Leon to glance up to him so he could make eye contact, pinning Leon to the spot. “Her manner of death… it was suicide.”

 _She knew_ _what was happening to her_ _._ If Leon's mouth hadn't been dry before, it sure as hell was now.

“I'll go down to the lab.” Leon said, his voice airy just like the spin in his head.

He spent the next two hours fidgeting in the waiting area outside the medical facility, waiting for his test results. The room was large and full of chairs, a single secretary sitting behind the desk. He was the only one present, thankfully. If not, he might have been asked to leave due to his fidgeting, glared at by another soldier or employee visiting. It looked like the secretary, glancing up every few minutes with a critical look in her eye, might even ask him to go.

A simple blood test and X-ray would tell him whether he was infected still or not, a simple blood test and visual check to decide his fate. Recently, he had found out that Ashley had apparently been riddled with signs of the Plaga, leaving Leon to wonder if the machine just simply hadn't worked for her. Had they used it wrong? Had _he_ used it wrong? If his test came back negative, then what? Did the lab even know what they were looking for? Had all of this been an error on his part when he was operating the machine, or an error because of biology? Women versus men? Ashley's version of the Plaga versus his? There were so many things about the Plaga they _didn't_ know, so many things that potentially could have gone wrong. So many things Leon could have _done right._

Would the President blame him if he was clean? Hate that Leon had survived when his daughter had taken her own life over it?

The whole time he waited, he couldn't get Ashley out of his head. The way she smiled at him, the way she had called for him, trusting despite the fact that they didn't even know each other and hadn't gotten a moment's rest since her initial rescue. He had declined contact with her afterward, had wanted to keep it professional because her father was the _President_ , after all. But what if he hadn't? What if he had reached out to her, even just to check up on how she was doing? Would she have confided in him? Would she be alive now?

There was no point in dwelling on it. Leon knew this, but he found himself lost in thought anyway, dwelling just like he had after Raccoon city and the god awful Tyrant in the police station. Just like he had after Krauser had lost his arm and had turned on Leon instead, throwing him down and ruining everything that they'd had, everything that they _could have_ had. He had spent hours upon hours of contemplating Spain, which all still left Leon confused and conflicted. He was sure Ashley would just be another unsolved horror stashed away at the back of his mind, but that didn't mean he wouldn't pick it apart and try to make sense of it all.

“Agent Kennedy?” A pretty woman in a white lab coat was suddenly standing beside him in the lobby, smiling down at him. She had a clipboard tucked under her arm, his fate literally in her hands. She didn't look grim though. “You're all clear.”

Leon sighed, his bouncing leg finally stilling. He sighed a second time, a smile gracing his lips. He was Plaga free. He wasn't going to randomly turn, couldn't hurt anyone. “Thanks. Am I free to go?”

“Yeah.” The woman said, smiling kindly. “Make sure to take it easy. Also try and get some more iron before it becomes a problem. Otherwise, you're good to go. Unless there's something else?”

“No, I'm fine. Thanks.” Leon said again, but when she walked away from him, he didn't feel fine at all.

His eyes narrowed at the shiny floor, guilt and paranoia settling into his stomach. There was too much about the Plagas they didn't know, too much that could go wrong.

_Something isn't right._

**[Monday, April 27, 06:03]**

Sitting in a fancy plush chair in the main USSTRATCOM lobby and partially hidden behind a large healthy parlor palm tree, Leon saw Chris Redfield emerge into the building before Chris could even hope to see him. The BSAA agent looked terribly out of place in the office, his nice black jeans and a casual wool jacket blending in with the few people loitering about. But the Glock 17 at his right hip and the military knife strapped to his left thigh were on full display for anyone and everyone to look at, and look at, the office staff did. Their eyes flickered up to him, quiet murmurs behind the front reception desk, but none of the staff voiced any concern. If anything, he was just eye-candy.

Chris scanned his surroundings quickly before turning away in the wrong direction, trying not to look suspicious but inevitably looking suspicious. He pulled out his cellphone from his pocket, fluttering towards the nearest wall like a wallflower, dragging the secretaries' attentions with him. No doubt, Chris was going to try and call Leon instead of tracking the solo agent down. Leon almost found it amusing, but then his amusement died into annoyance. He wasn't even trying to hide. How had Chris missed him?

“I'm sorry, I'll have to cut this really short.” Leon said into his own cellphone, his eyes narrowed at the BSAA agent attaching himself to the wall. Of course, the man was half an hour early. Chris Redfield was prompt and eager and always ready to jump into the fray. His sister had a lot of positive things to say about him and his work ethic, but Leon knew first-hand that all pros could inevitably become cons of their own.

Tilting forward, Leon leaned his elbows against his knees so that his head poked from around the plant, trying to stare holes into the other man's back until he noticed Leon's presence. It didn't work.

“I have to go. It's work-related.” Leon said. He wasn't disappointed, wasn't relieved either. Was stuck somewhere between complacency and exhaustion.

The woman he was speaking with on the other end of the line was older, her voice gentle and comfortable. She didn't sound perturbed or even surprised. “It's alright Leon. Tomorrow, same time?”

“Wednesday, same time.” Leon said instead, his eyes finally meeting Chris' just as the larger man turned around, glancing over his shoulder with his phone pressed to his ear. Leon's phone beeped twice, indicating he had an incoming call on hold. He didn't even bother looking to confirm it was Chris.

The second the man spotted him, Chris' eyebrows shot up, a goofy smile on his face as he suddenly turned Leon's way. He hung up his attempted call, sliding the android into one of his jacket pockets as he approached Leon quickly, his hulking frame misleading to his kind nature.

Leon hung up his own phone too, standing up from where he had been not-hiding behind the plant. He glanced up as Chris approached, not sure if Chris had been this tall the last time he had seen him, which had probably been years ago. The man seemed taller and thicker, his skin sun-kissed and his teeth still bright white when he smiled. Now that Leon thought about it, he couldn't even remember the last time he had seen Claire, either. It had probably been just as long.

“Long time no see.” Chris said, his grin wide as he sauntered over. He glanced Leon up and down, eyes suddenly locking on Leon's face. He didn't ask the question Leon was sure he had sitting on the tip of his tongue, didn't voice any concerns like people usually did every time they saw him. _You look like shit, how are you?_ Leon was just glad Chris didn't ask. Yet.

“Not every day someone like me gets partnered up with someone like you. This should be an eye-opening change of pace.” Chris said excitedly instead, letting his eyes glance over Leon's pale skin in scrutiny.

Leon allowed himself to smile, though, despite his best efforts, the smile came out strained. He didn't want Chris to get too excited about this, didn't want Chris to come along at all. He hadn't requested a partner, had tried to fight against having one without throwing himself under the bus after explaining _why_. He didn't _need_ a partner. He could prove it, but most importantly, he would prove it to himself.

“It'll be a change of pace, all right.” Leon agreed. He wasn't used to working with people, and after what had happened with _Krauser-_

Deep down, Leon knew why President Graham had made him take a partner for this assignment. When STRATCOM needed a job done, the job needed to get done and it needed to get done _right_. And if Leon wasn't functioning at his best, then they would just have to send in some extra help, if not someone just to keep an eye on him and to reign him in. He couldn’t – _wouldn't_ – get Claire's brother killed, he couldn't do that to her, and he wondered if someone higher up _knew_ that. Perhaps they thought all the trouble he had caused in Spain had been intentional; perhaps they didn't know that everything had gone horrendously wrong within the first five minutes, and that the plot kept twisting out of his control, out of his expectations and sometimes, out of his expertise. It was like STRATCOM thought he had all the time in the world on missions, had all the time to make sure everything worked out all nice and neat for the paperwork.

Leon got straight to it, his voice clipped of any humor the two of them may have previously shared. He was all business these days and at the end of it, this was Leon's assignment and Chris was just here to escort him and make sure he came back home in one piece. Leon's innocent star-struck eagerness had died back in Raccoon city, his quirky quips dead at Krauser's hands, his hope for saving people dead just like–

“We're not partners, you're just my getaway car. I was explicitly told that you're on modified-duty, so you're _not_ going to leave the car. That's an order. If you don't like it, don't come with me.” Leon said, hoping Chris would quit before Leon got the call to hold off on the assignment. He wanted to go alone, he _needed_ to go alone.

“Modified-duty until the doctor gets back from her vacation.” Chris interrupted, his voice straightforward and honest. “Technically on paper, I'm not allowed on the field, but I would have been cleared last week if the doctor was in. So with that in mind, chauffeuring a solo-agent who is _also_ on modified-duty and certainly won't let me in on any of the action, especially after I was told specifically by both the President and said solo-agent that I'm not allowed to leave the car unless there's an emergency? Now that's an assignment the BSAA will classify as modified-duty.”

Leon clicked his tongue, but he smiled. There wasn't much history here, but Claire had already talked her brother up to being the best man on Earth. The nicest. The strongest. Chris would do the right thing. Leon would trust in that, but he would also stubbornly stick to his ways. He needed Chris to stay safe. He needed to get this job done – get in, get out, it was really simple – and he needed to make sure everything went as smoothly as it could go. He needed to prove he wasn't completely off his rocker, needed to prove he could still do his job.

The assignment might have been simply collecting intel, but Leon's personal mission was to get the job done, and the job done right for once.

“Alright then. Let's go.” Leon said.

He had a bad feeling about all of this.

**[Monday, April 27, 16:44]**

They hadn't chatted much on the flight to their destination. Partially because Leon didn't like to fly these days, had only responded to Chris' questions with gruff noises of affirmation, and partially because Chris had decided to take a nap, somehow managing to pass out against the deafening drum of the chopper. Leon wouldn't admit it out loud that he was a little impressed. It looked like the man could sleep anywhere.

Good. _Goals._ Leon couldn't remember the last time he had slept soundly, couldn't remember the last time his brain had shut up long enough for him to get in a few decent hours of sleep.

But there was something about helicopters and watching enough of them go _down_ before inevitably bursting into flames that put Leon off from being in them. He remained rigidly awake, trying to ignore the flashes of fire in his mind, tried to ignore any noises with a resemblance to that very quiet, very specific _screaming_ sound the choppers made when their blades sliced through the air at all the wrong angles during their panicked careen down to their final resting place.

Leon closed his eyes. But he didn't sleep. Be it insomnia or paranoia or whatever the fuck it was, Leon hadn't been sleeping.

This was as good as it got.

The second they had been dropped off on a secret tarmac in the backwoods of eastern Canada, the second they were in the old, inconspicuous Ford Escape generously provided for them by STRATCOM, Chris suddenly became chatty. His nap must have rejuvenated him, because he suddenly had a bounce in his step, was suddenly smiling more and chatting a lot louder than he had been previously like the two of them were old friends or something. Besides the few work parties Leon had actually attended, Leon could only remember sharing a drink with the man twice in his life, and both of those instances had been accompanied by at least one other person.

Leon slid into the passenger seat, feeling more tired than he had in several days. He had been out of work for almost two weeks now, milling around STRATCOM, annoying anyone and everyone into giving him something to do, be it paperwork or tracking down elusive devices. Modified-duty sucked ass, but it seemed like an actual assignment was a lot more effort than it used to be.

Surprisingly, the air was a little nippy, so he immediately reached for the heat, turning it on.

“Claire tells me you've kept in contact.” Chris said from the driver's seat, starting up the small SUV, all of their equipment stashed away in the hatch. It was almost funny how big Chris was in the small vehicle, an amusement Leon didn't voice. They hadn't brought much, but Leon had decided for once to come _over-prepared_ , even if this was just a simple investigation assignment chalked up to be important. He had enough ammo back there to last him at least one run-in with a massive BOW the size of the state building, a BOW Leon didn't anticipate to run into.

“I don't keep in contact.” Leon said honestly. He leaned against the passenger side window, turning his eyes out to the trees. The scenery was greener than Spain, but the forests still brought back unpleasant memories, the sky grey and cloudy with the threat of very cold rain. “I just reply to her emails when I finally check them and she just never stops sending them. She's very charismatic, you know. If anything, she's the one keeping in contact. She has lots to say.”

Chris barked a laugh at that, and Leon assumed Chris knew what he meant. Wondered if Claire spammed him with emails and phone calls too. “She's very charismatic, indeed.”

“What was your injury?” Leon abruptly changed the topic, because at the end of the day it was an important question. They were out in the woods, and last Leon had seen, the woods could house dangerous communities. If there was trouble, they needed to be prepared. Not that Chris was going to leave the car, if Leon had anything to say about it.

Chris chuckled as he sped off down a dirt road that would eventually merge onto a rarely used highway. They had planned out their route only five minutes prior, and Leon really hoped nothing would go wrong immediately. “You'll never guess.”

“I don't want to guess.” Leon said. He didn't like guessing. He'd rather just know.

“Guess.” Chris insisted.

Leon rolled his eyes before cutting his glance back to Chris, glancing him up and down once again, not because his biceps were thicker than his own skull, but because everything about Chris looked right and functional. Except he was only driving with his left hand, had answered his phone with his left earlier too. It was a shot in the dark, but he doubted Chris would get modified-duty for a pulled muscle. “You break a hand? Your right hand, maybe just a couple of fingers? Enough to keep you off the front lines but not enough to keep you at home.”

Chris hacked an amused laugh, glancing over so quickly that Leon worried about the car jerking off the road. There was something weird on Chris's face, some sort of unrestrained amusement laced with suspicion.

“How the hell did you guess that?” Chris asked, his attention turning back to the road. “That was incredibly specific and the scariest part is, you're right.”

“You walked into STRATCOM without a limp and your knife is strapped to your left leg instead of your right. Modified-duty, my ass, they still sent you out in the field, didn't they? So it probably wasn't anything major, not a rib or a collar bone. And if your arm had been broken they wouldn't have let you chaperone, let alone come with me.” Leon said, his voice sure. “No one in their right mind would send you out with me if you were already injured.”

“Right, because you're trouble.” Chris laughed. “I've heard the rumors about you. You might not be named specifically, but you've become a mysterious little horror story. You're a trouble magnet. Murphy's Law: anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

“Right.” Leon glanced back out the window, frowning. He didn't know what rumors Chris was referring to, but a large part of him _didn't want to know._

Chris didn't say anything else, his grin fading from his lips as the trees thinned around them. Up ahead, there was pavement, a nice change from the bumpy dirt road. They were silent as Chris merged onto the empty highway, silent as he picked up speed before locking the vehicle into cruise control.

“So the assignment.” Chris said, abruptly changing the topic. “We should make a plan-”

“You don't have to worry about it. You just drop me off at the coordinates I sent, and I'll come back when I'm done. The assignment is really simple. Go in, check if there's a BOW, kill it if it's there, and then return home.” Leon said. He turned his attention back to the trees whipping by, more trees and greenery than he ever remembered. It abruptly reminded him of that village back in Spain, and he did everything within his power to _forget it._

“Sucks to be you, I also have an assignment alongside yours. Modified-duty, of course.” Chris said. He didn't tear his eyes from the winding road, the speed and unguarded edge of the mountainside making both of them nervous. His excited grin started to rub Leon the wrong way. “Getting explicit orders from the President himself is a high honor and an assignment I plan to carry out to the best of my abilities. I almost shit my pants in his office.”

Leon huffed, eyes rolling, assuming Chris's assignment was to escort Leon. All he knew was that Chris was coming along with him. “As long as you don't interfere.”

“I will, don't worry. I'll be explicitly in your way until we return back home.” Chris promised. He briefly glanced over again, that smile downright annoying. “So about the assignment.”

“No.” Leon said simply, eyes still locked on the landscape outside his window. “Your assignment is to stay in the car.”

“I already got the file, Kennedy. I'm here as your partner and I'm coming with you. It's very likely there's a BOW running loose in the woods. The behavior is all wrong because it avoids people, but it's probably just as aggressive as the usual BOW's when confronted. The report explicitly states that, and I know you read it. They think people have gone missing, the community has claimed it, but mostly it's just been the farm animals.” Chris said. He didn't glance away from the road.

The silence settled over them for a moment, Leon not bothering to add anything to the statement, until Chris spoke up again.“I'm assuming we haven't discussed why we're both really out here doing this because you think it's on a need to know basis.”

“It's on a need to know basis.” Leon confirmed. “And you don't need to know because you'll be in the car.”

“Well with that attitude, my personal mission is also on a need to know basis.” Chris said. He glanced over, watching, _waiting_ for Leon to take the bait.

“Good.” Leon said instead, turning to glance back out the window. He wouldn't take the bait. He didn't want to know. He didn't _need_ to know. He hardly even knew Chris but it was starting to sound like Chris knew a thing or two about Leon.

“This doesn't sound like a job they would call you in to do.” Chris said, but it was the _way_ he said it, like he was trying to poke and prod at the bear. And he was right. Investigating a rumored BOW should be a BSAA job, not Leon's. But they had left American soil, which meant there was probably more to this than met the eye. Leon wasn't stupid. He knew what he had done to earn himself modified-duty, so he knew Chris was here to babysit. Leon's only goal was to prove he could still do his job.

“And this doesn't sound like a job they would call _you_ in to do.” Leon retorted. He wasn't bitter. He understood.

Chris wasn't satisfied with the answer. “The BSAA received your report from Spain. We were all informed about Spain and the Plagas and the cultists and even what happened to Ashley when she came back. But I got personally briefed on what _you did._ ”

Leon's hands went cold, left arm itching, eyes narrowing out the window as his body failed to respond, luckily failed to give anything away. _Briefed._

Chris. Chris fucking Redfield. The man on modified-duty for a broken hand, a Captain with responsibilities and commitments for his own team running around for the BSAA, and here he was, jumping divisions, jumping _hierarchy_ , to drive Leon to investigate a possible BOW that was sighted in the middle of backwater Canada of all places. Leon was over-qualified for this. Chris was over-qualified for this. What gave Chris the position to be briefed on what Leon _did_ because of Spain?

Leon glanced to the side, eyes narrowed and the scowl present on his face, opening his mouth to ask Chris _exactly_ that, but Chris changed the topic before Leon could even snap at him.

“You never asked how I broke my hand.” Chris said, and once again, it was the way he said it that caught Leon's attention.

Leon didn't really care. Didn't want to care. His voice was clipped. “Does it even matter? Why-”

“Guess.” Chris prompted.

“I'm not guessing.” Leon said stubbornly, but he guessed anyway just to get it over with. “You broke it out on the field, probably trying to flex to a new member on your team and you tried to lift something too heavy but it fell on your hand instead.”

“Wow, tell me what you really think of me.” Chris laughed. “But you're wrong. It wasn't on the field.”

“Oh?” Leon asked, turning Chris' way. He was conflicted and annoyed, two reoccurring emotions that were starting to wear him thin. “You did something stupid at home?”

“I punched a guy in the face.” Chris said casually. His eyes never left the road and he didn't sound like he regretted it. “A new recruit. Under the BSAA division's roof in the middle of the cafeteria. I just kinda...”

Leon's side glance lingered for a few minutes in shock before he chuckled to himself and turned back to look out his window. He let that admittance settle in his brain for a minute before he laughed.

“You didn't get a suspension on paper, you got modified-duty instead.” Leon stated, suddenly realizing what this was, his second laugh ringing a little more genuine.

“I'm on 'modified duty' until the doctor comes back from vacation, just like you.” Chris said with an amused laugh, indicating that the results of this particular assignment would decide when his doctor came back. It sounded like STRATCOM was trying to sweep the two of them under the rug with minor assignments instead of actually acknowledging that a couple of their soldiers were going off the deep end. Suddenly, it made sense, sending Chris with him. Suddenly, Leon laughed again, turning Chris' way. They were in the same fucking boat.

He wasn’t sure what the President had been thinking, or who had been whispering into the man's ear when he had approved Chris Redfield to assist Leon S. Kennedy, but clearly, no one had been thinking at all.

“You know what I did?” Leon asked, because he'd rather have Chris _already know_ than for Leon to have to _tell him_. He didn't want to elaborate, didn't want to explain.

Chris glanced over, his smile dimmer. His tone was stubborn, his voice careful. “You know I can't stay in the car while you go out there.”

“I guess this isn't really an investigation assignment, now is it?” Leon said bitterly.

Chris glanced over once again, the humor back on his face. “If it's not an investigation assignment, then what is it?”

Chris Redfield was on 'modified duty' for finally showing he was human and had limits, for punching a recruit in the face. Leon S. Kennedy was on 'modified duty' for, in his defense, _accidentally_ , trying to take his own life.

Leon scoffed, turning back to the window with narrowed eyes. “It feels like we're in detention.”


	2. Some People's Pets Are Actually Their Children

**[** **Monday, April** **27** **, 19:19** **]**

“Are you kidding me?” Leon asked mostly under his breath the second he got out of the car, his hands shoved into his pockets. He glanced up to the sky, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. His bewilderment had started almost ten kilometers back. Why would he read the weather report? It was almost May. Spring, _practically summer._

“Well, what do you know.” Chris's laugh was loud as he got out of the vehicle. “Trouble already.”

“Is it fucking _snowing?_ ” Leon couldn't believe this. He was standing in an inch of it. The white dusting the road had suddenly become thicker the further north they had driven, had turned into a bewildered joke. It wasn't even soft snow. It was wet and sticky, clumping to Leon's boots.

“Are you surprised? We're in Canada.” Chris said unhelpfully. He wasn't dressed for the weather either as he rounded the SUV, the vehicle parked as far down an old service road as it could go. The old yellow headlights lit up the _No Entry_ sign, the dead-end barricaded with cement blocks. Leon shivered, the temperature at zero according to Chris's phone, just enough to leave him chilled with his breath visible in the air but not enough to freeze him to death any time soon. He was lucky he had brought his jacket with him, the replacement he had bought for the one lost in Spain. It was exactly like the last one, but for some reason, Leon couldn't help but notice the size was a bit baggier than he remembered.

Luckily, they had been able to see the old radio tower from the road, but at the same time, Leon had a _bad feeling._ This was starting to remind him of Spain already, but he also couldn't trust his own judgment because these days, _everything_ reminded him of Spain.

The most pressing of the reports of the strange creature – reports that hadn't been pressing at all, to be honest – had come in mostly from servicemen, out here to check up on the tower or to fix something. In this area out in the trees, away from the cities, there were a handful of local farms that had sent in complaints to their mayor, complaints that hadn't been taken seriously. It was just a wolf, a bobcat on the prowl. According to the information Chris had found in the BSAA database, this creature had been terrorizing the area for years, but the death toll was officially still at zero. Cattle aside.

Leon doubted BOW's were the problem. He was going to be really pissed if they had been shipped in to put down a rabid moose.

“We'll carry on as planned. You stay here. I'll be back.” Leon decided, his eyes dropping down to the ground, suddenly concerned. A little bit of snow wouldn't kill him. An hour in the shit? Well, he'd make sure to hurry. His boots were thick but the steel-toes would freeze soon, and his jacket would be enough to get him at least to the old radio tower. But the footprints he'd leave behind-

“I'm coming with you.” Chris said. He said it authoritatively like he was in command, even though Leon had already stated that Chris had no say in any of his decisions because he was a _solo-agent_ through and through. But Leon didn't think anything about it, just assumed Chris was used to being large and in charge.

“No.” Leon said just as firmly, shutting down the conversation. “You helped me plan. That's enough for right now. I'll go check the tower and come right back, it shouldn't take me any longer than an hour. I don't want to leave the car unguarded right now, and you'll fuck up the snow.”

“Leon-”

“I will come back.” Leon stated, whipping his head around to face Chris. He made eye contact. “Your hand is fine. So is mine.”

Chris only huffed, catching his drift. He leaned against the passenger side door, arms crossed as he considered it. It looked like he was going to argue more, like they hadn't already argued enough about this. “You won't do anything stupid?”

Leon chuckled, turning away. “Everything I do is calculated and controlled.”

“That's what worries me.” Chris said. But he sighed when he relented. “Keep your comm on, and I'll keep the car warm. Be quick. Anything suspicious and I'm hauling your ass back to the BSAA and reporting you.”

“Reports go two ways, you know.” That was a deal Leon could accept. “I'll be back shortly.”

The goal was simple. They had spent the last hour of the drive with Leon pouring over the map he had already marked and labeled hours before their departure, Chris filling him in with any information that Leon might not have had prior to leaving – which wasn't much. There were reports of a mysterious beast, elusive enough for them to be suspicious it was a BOW, but not dangerous enough to actually garner attention. STRATCOM wanted to rule out that it wasn't a BOW, had a hunch that it was. Leon and Chris would sweep the area and report back. Best case scenario? They found nothing. Worst case scenario? They had to put it down.

After Spain, Leon feared what the worst-case scenario could possibly entail.

They had agreed to classify the radio tower as the hot zone because it had the most reputable reports, had decided to check it out before bothering the community and possibly setting them on edge, sending certain people running. Leon's plan had been to visit all the small farms along the highway, to ask and question them about the creature, to see if they could come up with a plausible excuse for the disappearance of the farm animals and those who happened to wander into the woods. See if anyone was suspicious about their neighbors and the like. Chris's voice of reason had Leon agreeing to stop at the tower first, because as usual, something wasn't quite right.

Leon just knew his drop-offs usually ended in disaster.

Five minutes into the tree line and already out of the headlights sights, with the canopy shrouding Leon in the darkness of the sun already disappearing behind the horizon, his earpiece crackled.

“Testing, agent Kennedy, can you hear me? No trouble already, right? Over.” Chris asked. He was having too much fun with this, Leon thought. He could hear the vehicle running in the background, the heat turned on full. _Noisy, it's too noisy._

Leon reached up to his ear, pressing on the piece so he could reply, the comm for this job shoddier than usual. It was bulkier, more noticeable, but Leon supposed they hadn't been prioritized for resources because of how unimportant the mission was. This job was selected from the bottom of the pile. The absolute limit for STRATCOM's attention. Hell, even the police would shove this job to the bottom. What were they supposed to do? Search the whole forest looking for a creature that may or may not exist?

Detention fucking sucked.

“I can hear you loud and clear and no, there's no trouble yet.” Leon said. He wasn't superstitious, but he glanced at a nearby tree and refrained himself from rasping his knuckles against it. _There's no trouble yet, knock on wood._

“Alright good.” Chris said. “Can you report as you go along? Don't want you freezing out there, don't want any surprises.”

“Right.” Leon said, ignoring the elephant in the room. He paused as his gaze snapped to the side, finger coming off the comm, a sound possibly catching his attention to the right. He lowered his hand to his hip, his fingers sliding over Matilda's grip. He paused, eyes sliding amongst the trunks, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, before he turned his attention back ahead, eyes to the sky, keeping the tower in his sights.

Fuck, he was paranoid and sensitive to sounds. Maybe bothering his superiors into giving him an assignment was a bad idea. The woods felt massive, endless in space but swallowing all the same. It was like the trees muted his footsteps. A pile of snow fell off a nearby tree and startled him, the dull thud sounding further away than the snow pile had actually been.

_Alright, get your shit together, Leon._

As Leon continued on, hairs on his arms raised, Chris started to chat into his ear.

“I did some digging before we came out because the files seemed a little empty and there wasn't much information. I checked the BSAA network to see what I could drag up from the area, and I'm pretty sure the higher-ups know more than what they're telling us.” Chris said, loud in Leon's ear. Leon glanced out to the woods again, his frozen hand snug against Matilda, fingers numb. He really wished Chris would stop talking, really wished there was a volume button. And mittens. His fingerless gloves offered only a little warmth.

This was why he didn't like partners, he didn't like the distraction that came with them, didn't like having a liability chatting from a car like a sitting duck, waiting for Leon to come back. Didn't like trusting people just in case they turned bad later. Chris was on modified-duty for fingers that were no longer broken, so he wasn't helpless. But at the same time, Leon knew shit all about him, shit all about his capabilities. He was trusting in Claire's words and Chris' title. Leon knew Chris had been neck-deep in Umbrella before, had fought those infected with the T-virus, had seen his fair share of hell. But what if he needed help? What if he turned bad?

_I hate having partners._

“The sightings started almost eight years ago, which means this might be an early infection that got away. It might not be a big baddie, after all, maybe just one of the lesser demons Umbrella has unleashed into this world. Could be as old as the nineties and just never got reported. Hopefully nothing too potent. Maybe we'll get lucky and it's just an animal. Even infected, it might not even be that bad.” Chris said. “Could have migrated here from anywhere, unfortunately. Depends on what kind of species it was originally. It might not even be native to this area, might have-”

“Be quiet.” Leon said, finger to his comm, pausing again. He glanced out into the darkness, eyes narrowed, cold making his hands shake. He stared into the darkness quickly falling through the trees, trying to listen. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising, a thought passing through the back of his mind that everything usually went wrong within the first ten minutes of his drop-off.

“No need to get saucy. The locals have a legend about it, claim it had antlers and a lot of razor-sharp teeth. It's apparently massive, like bigger than a truck massive-”

Leon grunted. Something solid and significantly bigger than him slammed into his body from behind, sending him straight down into the snow. Pain exploded across his right shoulder, his body hitting the ground hard enough to leave him winded. The snow burned at his face when he landed, his frozen hands scrambling to get under him, fingers officially numb. Matilda jostled in her holster and for a second, Leon worried he'd lose her.

“Shit-”

Unknowingly, Chris was still chatting away in Leon's ear as Leon scrambled to his hands and knees, black skinny jeans instantly soaked through. His hands reached simultaneously for his comm and knife just as something slammed down on his back again, a massive clawed paw tearing into Leon's shoulder.

Leon groaned, a large beast snarling hotly in his ear as it snapped Leon up by the right arm, massive molars sinking through his right shoulder again. Leon moaned as the beast suddenly took off with him, dragging half his body through the snow. He kicked at the beast, worried his arm would be ripped off, worried his arm would be mangled past repair just like–

“Shit-” Leon grabbed for his military knife, hidden on his chest beneath the layer of his jacket on the left, the fingers on his left hand struggling to curl around the handle of the blade. He had learned the hard way, had learned that a reliable knife was almost necessary for every mission, even if its sheath was duck-taped to his shoulder holster for a gun he didn't even carry there.

“Fuck-” He drew his blade and twirled it in his hand before firmly slamming it down into the body behind him, catching the beast in the shoulder. The creature yelped, jaws snapping open and dropping Leon back down into the snow and he rolled away quickly, leaving a fresh trail of warm blood that melted the snow behind him. He sheathed his blade and glanced up to the sky, frantically searching for the tower, spotting it behind him and further away than it should be. “Shit-”

The beast was on him again in the next second, a massive grey wolf that easily stood seven feet at its shoulder, lips pulled back into a savage snarl. Its teeth were unnaturally white and clean. It looked like the locals hadn't been exaggerating that there was a beast in the woods, but it looked like the antlered creature and maybe even the BOW was only a myth. Leon wasn't sure which was worse.

Leon drew out Matilda and shot, the suppressor muffling the sound just in case there were more wolves, more monsters. The creature howled before it lunged, Leon's aim terribly off from the injury to his arm.

“God fucking-” He only had a second to bring up both arms and shield his face, the wolf's canines sinking through Leon's jacket and straight into his forearm. Venom suddenly burned through Leon's veins, a horrible but familiar warm feeling spreading across his body, leaving him screaming into the night. The sound was muted to his ears like the trees themselves were swallowing every noise, drinking the sounds in. The wolf started to drag him off again by his right arm, Leon's left hand finally shooting up to the comm in his ear, pressing the button so Chris could hear him.

Leon's hand was jostled as the wolf started to run, dragging Leon through the snow again. At least there were signs of a struggle, a bloody trail for Chris to follow once Leon finally got through to him.

Chris had stopped chatting to him a few minutes ago – Leon couldn't remember how long it had been or what he had been talking about – the idea of falling back on a partner foreign. Hunnigan didn't count because she had never been close enough to save him if he really needed it. His hand shot back up for his comm, pressing the button just as the wolf finally dropped him again, Leon's hand off the button before he could even say anything.

Rolling through the snow again to try and put distance between him and the beast, Leon forced himself up to his hands and knees from the momentum just as a woman started to yell nearby. He was soaking wet and shivering, the cold freezing his jeans, making them stiff. He gasped, lungs already burning in a foreign way.

“Is that my Anna-Mae?” A woman yelled, the back door to her double-story home exploding open. She was tall and lanky as she rushed through the snow, her face featureless in the falling dark.

Leon was up on his knees in an instance now that there was a civilian, Matilda raised and locked onto the wolf as it danced away. He had been dragged onto someone's property, a large farmhouse sitting to his left with a single light on inside. The back door was on the deck, the giant window in the second floor's peak dark. To Leon's right, there was a large barn that the wolf suddenly darted behind, cutting off Leon's line of fire. There looked to be a shed obscured by the darkness ahead of him, but the wolf was his first priority. There was a lot of open space and no fencing, nothing to put between him and the wolf. Night was falling, the darkness of the countryside _dark_ , the snow acting as an eerie sort of nightlight, glowing in the full moon.

“Don't shoot! Don't shoot!” The old woman yelled desperately, rushing at Leon through the snow. She had a jacket wrapped around her shoulders, a frail hand waving at Leon as he turned towards her, the beast emerging from behind the barn and running at them both.

“Get down!” Leon took the shot, knowing better than to shoot _at_ a civilian, but he did it anyway. His hands were cold, right side burning hot. He was shaking, eyes flickering to the woman at that moment, worried, but he knew the old woman wouldn't survive if that beast got ahold of her.

The woman screamed and threw herself down to the snow with her hands over her head, Leon unleashing his whole clip into the wolf as it charged him. The closer it got, the more critical the shot, before a bullet slammed through its eye and straight into its brain.

The beast dropped heavily to the ground with a dying whine, body sliding up to Leon, its ribs raising desperately as it heaved its last breath. It pawed at the snow before stilling, a cold cackle leaving its lungs for the final time. Leon gasped, Matilda still raised and pointed at the beast, confusion leaving him dizzy. _It's dead, it's already dead. It can't be a BOW-_

“Anna-Mae!” The woman suddenly screeched. She clambered over to the beast in the snow on her hands and knees, throwing herself over the wolf's face, hands pushing back its fur as she sobbed over the creature's ruined eye. She repeated the name wretchedly – Leon had a really, _really,_ bad feeling about this – and just as Leon briefly pressed on his comm again, the back door to the woman's home burst open for the second time. A large man with a wide-brimmed hat stumbled out wrapped in a bathrobe. He had a shotgun raised and ready as he rushed outside, flying down the back steps the second he saw the downed wolf.

“Lilly?” The older man yelled, rushing through the snow. The second he spotted Leon struggling to get to his feet, he stopped and raised the shotgun.

“I'm not here for you.” Leon called, Matilda already holstered when the situation had turned, hands in the air in surrender. His right arm was ripped to shreds and hard to hold up, blood pouring from the open wounds and fire burning down to his fingertips. He was worried it was poison or _worse._ “I'm here to investigate the rumored monster in your woods that's been stealing your cattle. This beast-”

Leon threw himself to the ground, officially soaked through from the snow that just kept falling peacefully around him, the shotgun blast echoing throughout the woods before muting, being sucked in by the forest.

 _Holy shit._ Leon scrambled to his hands and knees and took off, keeping low as he heard the deafening sound of the shotgun being cocked once again. The woman was screaming again, something that sounded along the lines of _kill him, Harold,_ the man's low baritone responding reassuringly. Leon took off towards the barn just as the man shot after him again, missing. In his ear, Chris came on the line, sounding amused.

“Are you trying to talk to me? Is the comm glitching?” Chris asked. “It keeps clicking like you're pressing it, but I can't hear anything.”

Leon pressed a hand to his ear just as he slipped in the sticky snow. He went down to his knees once again as he tried to get around the barn, his good hand dropping to the cold wet snow to balance him. He swore loudly because _fuck_ , how many times would he try to talk to Chris before he actually got through?

The windows to the lower level of the barn weren't covered, the shutters wide open making the window passable. Leon rushed for the window and hoisted himself up and inside, legs smoothly floating through the air before slipping easily into what looked like a workroom. With his flashlight out in his unsteady right hand, Leon drew Matilda, scanning the area. There were tools strewn all over the tables, papers, and stacks of books, but nothing that Leon had time to sift through right at the moment. The door was closed but hopefully not locked, nothing screaming _Umbrella_ so far. The temperature was cold in the workroom, but it was at the back of Leon's mind. The wooden door swung open easily when Leon hurried to it, giving him access to the barn.

Rushing into the main room proved to be a mistake, memories of an abattoir back in Spain suddenly assaulting him, reminding him of a very horrible situation and a near-death experience and, of course, _more fire_. But when Leon froze, he didn't freeze because of the memories. The barn was dark but warm, high windows letting in next to no light, but even without his flashlight, he could still _see them._ He held his breath.

The stalls that usually kept horses had been modified to have thicker bars more akin to a cage. The wooden panels were reinforced, wolves just as big as the one dead outside pacing behind the iron. More than a dozen sets of variously coloured eyes turned on Leon, every single beast seeing him and honing in on him, standing on hind legs to peer out from behind the bars. The cacophony started a second after, the silence became deafening. Blood pounded in Leon's ears as the howling and yipping and barking drowned out everything else, rattling through Leon's skull. The property owners didn't even need to follow his footprints, they could just follow the barking to know exactly where he had gone.

Leon turned off his flashlight and fled to the ladder nearby, quickly climbing up to the second floor. He skittered along the rafters, the wood groaning beneath his boots, his back to the wall. Matilda raised in his left hand, his right numb. He paused for a second as he backed himself into the dark corner, trying to get his bearings, trying to make a plan, eyes flickering over the wolves smashing into their bars. His instant fear was that all the beasts would be released at the same time and he would end up as nothing more than dog food.

He waited the extra second until he realized they were secure in their stables and wouldn't be busting out any time soon before bringing his left hand back up to his face, pointer finger ghosting over the button for his comm. He took a deep, shaky breath that steadied right before he pressed it, his attention suddenly snapping to movement in the shadows on his right. _Just give me a fucking minute!_

He let go of the comm, gun raised as the deep shadows started to move. The floorboards creaked beneath heavyweight, wood groaning as something big, something larger than the wolves, stood up from where it had been sitting motionlessly, hidden in the dark. A foot slammed down as the being clamored to its feet, the hollowness of the sound ricocheting through Leon's skull and leaving him frozen in fear for a split second. _Are you fucking kidding me-_

“Leon, I think the comm is glitching.” Chris said surely from the other end of the line. Leon flinched so bad he lost his grip on Matilda, the weapon clattering to the floorboards like a grenade going off. “I can't hear you.”

Leon didn't need to see as he scrambled for Matilda with his breath lost. There was enough of an outline that he _knew_ what was standing before him, was intimately familiar with the type of beast rising to its full height, standing not too far under eight feet tall. It was broad and heavy, the wide-brimmed hat on its head different than the one Leon remembered, but not to be removed all the same. Matilda was shoved back into her holster just Leon's finger shoved painfully into the comm, repressed memories from his awful first and only day as a rookie police officer suddenly slamming straight into him, leaving him breathless.

“Redfield-” His voice wavered. He wasn't going to cry. Raccoon city had been almost six years ago, felt like an eternity. But this beast, with just enough of the dying light streaming in from a tiny window above to lighten part of the beast's ashen white face, Leon felt like he had seen this monster only _yesterday._

The Tyrant grabbed him by the throat, easily whisking Leon off his feet before tossing him clear off the rafter and back down to the barn below. Leon was glad he knew how to fall, glad he knew how to land and roll, otherwise he would have broken a rib if not all of them, along with his spine. He rolled a few extra times from the momentum before he finally stopped still face down in the hay and dust, his chest heaving and his limbs struggling to get underneath his body. The fall had still fucking hurt; he wasn't as young as he had once been, but he wasn't incapacitated and that was all that mattered.

The wolves yipped and snarled all around excitedly, barking and jumping and rattling their cages, an overwhelming flurry of deafening movements as Leon gingerly got back onto his hands and knees. There was blood trailing freely from his shoulder and his right arm, hot pain breaking a sweat across his brow despite the temperature. He was gasping like he was being choked, eyes wide in the dark. Fuck. He was- This was- _What the fuck-_

“It happened again, Kennedy, you're not coming through. Are you at the tower yet? Click twice for yes.” Chris said with an amused laugh. “Do you know Morse code? I don't, but there's always Google, you know, and I have cell service still. Just click twice for yes, or once for no if you're at the tower.”

 _I didn't get through!_ Leon jammed his finger back into the comm as he struggled to his knees, communication with a _partner_ taking priority for the first time in- _since_ -

The door to the barn slid violently open, the man, Harold, staggering in with the shotgun. Everything was going to shit. Leon was bleeding, burning with _something_ coursing through his veins. He couldn't breathe, cold tendrils of numbness caressing his head. His mind was spinning, the Tyrant his number one concern and fear despite the shotgun being cocked and aimed his way.

“ _Chris!_ ” Leon yelled before rolling out of the way, the shotgun blast ringing in his ears and causing the wolves to howl and bark even louder in their cages. Leon's finger was still on his comm, his hand shaking against his ear. Why didn't this shit have a lock button?

“What the fuck was that, Kennedy?” Chris asked, his voice changing completely. He was suddenly all business, not a hint of amusement in his tone. “Agent Kennedy, report your status.”

“South residence!” Leon yelled, staggering to his feet and ducking for the nearby shadows under a work table, hoping to use the darkness to his own advantage. His eyes turned to the back door, intending to go out the way he came. If Lilly was back there to block his escape, he would just fucking shoot her.

Leon opened his mouth, was going to yell _wolves, tyrant, hicks_ , but he fell back down to the floorboards before he even had the chance to speak, the Tyrant jumping down and landing from the second floor, thunderously shaking the ground. It blocked off his escape through the back door and window he had come in through, landed so heavily that it dropped down to one knee before lifting its head and instantly seeking him out.

_How the fuck is there a Tyrant all the way out here?_

This was Umbrella. This was the proof Leon had been looking for.

_Fuck!_

Still on his knees, Matilda was back out and wavering in Leon's left hand, his bloodied right fist under his left wrist to try and still the shake in his arms. The Tyrant stepped from the shadows – not the same tyrant from the police station, it couldn't be, it had a different face, was _bigger_ – and Leon whipped around, shooting at the man with the shotgun. He got the fucker in the leg and the older man screamed as he went down, his next shotgun shot blaring louder than the howling wolves, missing its target wildly. Leon ran, kicking off the man's grabby hands and knocking him over as he dashed through the barn and out into the open, the Tyrant's thundering steps catching up to him rather quickly.

“Stop!” The woman, Lilly, also had a shotgun, the barrel level with Leon's chest the second he emerged from the barn. Leon took the chance and shot at her knee without even breaking stride. He missed, but the woman gasped and staggered away from him anyway like she had been hit.

Leon took off back towards the trees as fast as he could with Matilda holstered, his eyes on the point of the radio tower that he could hardly see in the distance. He slammed his finger back into his comm, out of breath but forcing the words out anyway. “Hostiles. Headed back for the radio tower, coming in from the south. Regroup? There's a T-”

The shot that echoed through the woods was suddenly drowned out by Leon yelping. He crashed back down into the snow and slid with a loud moan, pain shooting through his right shoulder again, his entire right side on fire now. He rolled onto his back and grabbed the wound, bleary eyes quickly scanning over the tears in his jacket, searching for the newest addition to his tattered jacket sleeve. Shrapnel had just clipped him, but it still hurt like hell. He didn't have time for this shit. When he glanced up, the Tyrant was storming after him, its ghostly pale face glowing in the moonlight.

Groaning, Leon rolled back over and scrambled to his feet, clutching his shoulder. He veered off to the nearest tree just in case whoever had just shot him was going to shoot him again. Successfully, Leon ducked behind the trunk, slinking into the dark forest a lot slower than he would have liked. His lungs were on fire, his throat raw and frozen. He couldn't feel his nose or the tips of his ears, his right arm and shoulder numb and no longer a part of his body. Behind him, he could hear the woman yelling and the crunch of the snow as the Tyrant came after him, its pace-

Its _pace-_

_It was running-_

Leon hurried. He consciously forced himself to ignore the pain, to ignore everything that could hinder him, could result in his death. He took off as fast as he could through the trees, aiming for the narrowest spaces to stall the Tyrant or at least give it something to rip out of its way. He heard the moment the Tyrant entered the woods, the thundering steps of the monster running after him suddenly muted.

Wood groaned before screaming as a tree burst, the Tyrant smashing his way after Leon. Several trees cracked and moaned, leaves rustling frantically behind him as they fell. The silence settled ominously just like the jostled snow around him.

Leon ignored it. Continued to wheeze as he shot through the dark, the sounds of his pursuer going dark just like the sun finally disappearing behind the horizon.

Leon continued to run, ran until he physically couldn't anymore. He stopped, wheezing, eyes turning up towards the sky but he couldn't see the tower anymore, couldn't see anything at all. The darkness in the woods was blinding, the temperature dropping with the sun, and Leon's lungs were burning. He fell back against a tree, trying to catch his breath. Trying to pull himself together. He had become intimately familiar with panic attacks lately, but the difference was _now was not the time._

Leon shoved a hand into his comm as he gasped, his legs refusing to move, knees shaking. “Redfield-”

“Report.” Chris said. He sounded a little out of breath himself, the rumble from the vehicle gone. Chris was outside, running through the dark after him, wasn't he?

 _Fuck._ “There's a Tyrant on the residence south of the tower. The family is hostile. It looks like they're keeping giant wolves and surprisingly, not the dead kind.” Leon panted. He stood up straight, eyes cutting over to his bloody arm, blood dripping from one of his fingers. He tilted his head in debate, eyes locked on the blood. Was he infected? Or bleeding out? He didn't know how long he had, but he doubted he had much time.

“Are you injured, Agent Kennedy?” Chris asked.

Leon almost laughed, eyes still locked on the blood and his ruined jacket sleeve. He hesitated, an unnatural warmth spreading over him in a hot flash, worry, panic, fear, stress, concern, uncertainty, all hitting him at once. Leon moaned, staggering suddenly, his good hand swiping out for the nearest tree to catch himself as his head spun, his dark surroundings suddenly brighter. He didn't fall, but he did slump towards the tree with his forehead pressed against the frozen wood, his fingers clawing into the bark like he was going to go down without warning.

“Agent Kennedy?”

Behind him, the snow crunched. Leon gasped, glancing over his shoulder, eyes wide. Blood was throbbing through his temples, echoing in his ears. He didn't want to move, didn't want to make any noise, but it seemed he didn't even have to.

The snow crunched closer to him, the trees groaning as the Tyrant shoved them aside, low branches and shrubbery snapping off beneath the monster's feet. It was coming straight for him like it could smell him, was probably following his footprints in the snow.

“Don't shoot off his hat.” Leon said as he turned and fled, dodging between two closely placed trunks in his attempt to escape. He wasn't even aiming for the tower anymore, didn't even know where he was, where he was going, which way was safe. He was just rushing blindly into the dark, dreaded what would happen should the Tyrant catch him.

“What?” Chris asked, but Leon didn't get a chance to reply.

He stumbled, tripping through the underbrush as his head started to spin, blood-loss finally catching up to him. He was no stranger to passing out, knew the signs that he was going to go down, but he couldn't help but try and stubbornly power through it. He fell, vision turning white.

A massive hand caught him by the back of the neck before he could hit the ground, thick-gloved human fingers curled around his entire throat, firmly snagging up underneath Leon's jaw. The sound that left Leon's mouth has half a whine, half a groan as the tyrant shoved him face-first into the ground, pinning him down with a painfully firm hand. On the positive side, a mouthful of snow was better than a mouthful of dirt. On the negative side-

Leon started to struggle in earnest. His knees were soaked through, the skin beneath his jeans raw and frozen as he clawed at the ground, the Tyrant falling from the momentum over his back in a position that had Leon whimpering in cold horror. Matilda was on his right, but his right hand wouldn't move properly, wouldn't coordinate and Leon's left couldn't possibly reach her. His knife was trapped on his chest beneath his weight, his hand struggling to get under his body as the Tyrant forced him down into the snow. Its other monstrous hand pressed down on the small of Leon's back, forcing him flat down, muffling his struggles.

Leon's hand snapped to the comm in his ear, his head turned to the side, catching the Tyrant leaning down over him, its cold, dead eyes locked on Leon's face. He stopped struggling for a second, just laid there panting, his eyes cutting to the monster as it tilted its head at him almost curiously. This was how it had happened back in Raccoon city too. The curiosity uniquely aimed at Leon alone, the curiosity before the _pain. This one might just kill me, and if it's anything like the one before, I hope it does._

Leon was blocking up the comm so Chris could only hear him frantically wheezing, couldn't even ask if he was okay. When Leon's short breath turned into a whimper as Raccoon city assaulted him in his mind, he decided he needed to start talking as fast as he could.

“The Tyrant seems to be working for the family and is- is still hostile, consider it hostile but don't waste your bullets on it. South residence, maybe ten kilometers south-west from the radio-” Leon groaned, the hand around his throat and waist suddenly going snug as the Tyrant lifted Leon from the ground and slung him over its shoulder. Leon's finger remained glued to his ear until it hurt, struggling to breathe. “I shot- the man on the residence has been shot in the leg. Both civilians have a shotgun. The barn is full of wolves- giant wolves-”

Fuck, what hadn't he told Chris yet? Was there anything else he should mention? Should he tell Chris to cut and run, to get reinforcements? But there hadn't been any trouble here. What the hell was going on?

“Don't go near the barn-” Leon gasped, finger coming off the comm to grab his knife. He glanced to the side, wondering if he could stab the Tyrant straight through the neck. Maybe the ear? His eyes searched desperately for smoother skin, something that could be penetrated by the tip of his blade. But he worried the Tyrant would squeeze if he tried to stab him, that hand around his waist capable of easily squishing Leon in two. He worried the Tyrant would throw him down and try what the last one tried to do, down amongst the cells with the alarm blaring and the undead stupidly trying to claw past the Tyrant to get to Leon's flesh. They had been swatted away like flies by the Tyrant pinning him down, intent that wasn't murderous guiding the monster's hands. The chaos had been too much, the Tyrant, the zombies _right there_ , the crackle of leather gloves as its _hands_ -

Leon gagged.

“What is your status?” Chris asked, his voice still even and controlled. He was running, the noise on his end indicating that he was running through the woods and he sounded armed.

Leon chuckled. His status? _His status?_

“Redfield.” Leon said, his voice coming out clipped but resolved. If this went bad, Leon wasn't sure what would happen, wasn't sure what _he_ would do. “I might be dead on arrival, and not because I want to be.”


	3. Everyone Knows That Villains Keeps Their Dirt In The Basement, So Maybe Try Stashing Your Secrets Somewhere Else

**[Monday, April 27, 20:08]**

“I'll be there.” Chris said into his comm as he pushed himself to run faster. “I'm coming and I _will_ be there.”

There wasn't much more he could say, nothing he could promise. Chris Redfield was familiar with situations like this, familiar with animal attacks in the woods turning out to be BOWs and cults all riddled with Umbrella. He was having flashbacks from the Arklay Mountains, just this time there was snow and instead of two teams of four being sent out, it was just him and Leon.

 _Unless they consider the two of us good enough to be a whole team on our own._ Sometimes, the BSAA pissed Chris off. Sometimes, the way certain situations were handled, Chris was left wondering if there was a way to get out of his job. He was here to help people, but some days, it didn't seem like the BSAA had civilian interests in mind.

He was also familiar with losing his partners, losing team members. His last one had been a mole, had betrayed him. He'd lost several teams, had heard the rumors spreading about him that being assigned to his squad was a death sentence. He did this to save people and at the end of the day he was always successful in stopping the big Baddie because nothing ever was truly catastrophic, but it always cost him someone else in return. An eye for an eye, he supposed.

So to hear _DOA_ come out Leon's mouth-

Chris ran faster. He had turned away from the path to the tower the second he had seen the blood in the snow and the giant paw-prints that had instantly rushed off, dragging Leon with them. He had been running for some time, trying to get ahead of the snowfall as it covered the tracks leading him straight to where he needed to go. He shouldn't have let Leon go off on his own, not because he should have known better, but because Leon was on modified-duty instead of _suicide watch._

STRATCOM wanted it to look good on paper. This was Chris and Leon's only chance to get out of their own messes.

“I'm being taken inside the barn.” Leon suddenly said quietly into his comm. There was a lot of background noise on his end, a lot of shuffling. The barking started up a moment later, the sound much too loud for Chris's ear. _It looks like they're keeping giant wolves and surprisingly, not the dead kind._

“Don't follow me in here, there's a Tyrant and more than twelve wolves, maybe fourteen. The family is here too, you won't stand a chance.” Leon warned, whispering faster like he was running out of time. “They haven't killed me yet and you won't make it if they do. Neutralize the house. Umbrella is crawling around here somewhere. The Tyrant and wolves probably won't go in, they won't fit. Take out the family and hopefully, I'm on my way out too. They might not kill me right away, might keep me around. But Agent Redfield, our first priority is to eliminate everything hostile on this property and collect the data. That's an order.”

“Is it like the Plaga?” Chris asked, but Leon never responded. “Leon?”

The comm was dead, the only thing to be heard was Chris's own panting and the sound of his boots crunching through the snow. He was wheezing, hadn't run this hard in quite a while, modified-duty and all, but he needed to be there in time. He hated the plan, but Leon had a point. There wasn't much Chris could do to help in the face of fourteen giant wolves and a Tyrant except die with him. He'd have to try and take them all out one by one.

“Fuck.” Chris huffed, but he didn't stop. He hated this, he hated all of it, so he channeled it into anger and ran faster. There was nothing else he could do except hope this assignment wouldn't turn out like all the others. _I really am a death sentence._

The paw-prints took him straight to the edge of the property.

Hidden behind a tree, Chris took a moment to catch his breath, his eyes on the barn off in the distance. The property was silent now, the barking and howling ceased, the door to the barn closed for business. Catching his breath, Chris let his hands rest comfortingly on the guns at his hips – he had taken all of them. Everything that Leon had brought that Chris could reasonably carry, Chris had equipped. He had a shotgun on his back and ammo weighing down a hip pouch. Everything had gone so wrong _so fast_ that Chris didn't want to take any chances. _Murphy's Law._ This might be all the ammo he got, for all he knew. This might be it.

The snow posed a problem Chris never really had to anticipate before. He didn't want to risk leaving obvious footprints, didn't want to risk following the Tyrant's obvious boot-prints, leaving his own sneakily atop the monster's just in case someone looked too closely and saw what he had done. But he didn't want to waste time sneaking around the property either and eventually, his presence would be known anyway. So with one last look at the barn door and the hope that Leon wasn't being torn apart limb by limb, Chris dashed forward as fast and quietly as he could with his eyes to the ground, matching the Tyrant's stride. The forest had been dark, but the property was glowing in the moonlight, the snow reflecting the muted sunlight from the full moon, lighting up the area just enough for Chris to see more than his hand in front of his face.

When the Tyrant's footprints turned towards the barn, Chris jumped into the fray of disturbed snow, hoping his prints would blend in with the two tracks coming out from the house.

Behind him, the wolves started to howl excitedly. They sounded big, and some of them sounded _mean._

Chris took that as his cue to run faster, flying up the steps to the rickety back deck and bursting through the back door with his gun raised. He quickly scouted out the back entrance before the door could even close behind him, his breath heavy. He rubbed the soles of his shoes off on the mat at the back door, not wanting to leave puddles in his wake through the house. If someone came in behind him, he didn't want them to have a trail of snow to follow, didn't want them to know he was there before he knew _they_ had arrived.

He cleared the kitchen quickly, gun firm and steady in his hands. This was basic protocol, basic training. He fell into the familiarity of clearing rooms, and his panic started to subside, his thoughts a little clearer, a little more focused on the task at hand and not Leon trapped out in the barn. The only light in the house was from the kitchen and the living room, and he didn't intend to change that. Leon must have woken the family up with his arrival and they must have rushed outside to go see what the commotion was all about, leaving lights on in their wake.

Across from the kitchen was the living-room in question, homey in an old fashion kind of way, and a set of stairs going up to the second floor. They must have come from upstairs. Between the kitchen and living room was a short hallway, five doors lining it. Chris quickly scanned the living room before his eyes trailed to the floor hidden upstairs.

“Fuck.” There were too many rooms, too many floors, too much space. But if Chris had learned anything, it was that all the shady stuff was always kept in the basement.

Quickly, Chris moved down into the dim hallway with his gun raised. He pulled out his flashlight, deciding that efficiency was more important than stealth right now. He'd rather blind someone with his flashlight before they could jump or fire at him. He could still hear the wolves barking, still couldn't hear Leon telling him he was okay.

His boots were loud on the wooden floorboards, the panels moaning and groaning beneath his weight as he quickly cleared the hallway and checked each room as he went. The first door on his right had been an empty room full of boxes and old furniture, just junk in general, nooks and crannies, and shadows. Chris didn't have time to go in and make sure nothing was loitering in the dark. The next room on the left was a bedroom, the colourful crayon sign on the door reading ' _Rose_ ', the flowers obviously drawn by a child, the name written by someone much older. It was a little girl's room with flowers on the wallpaper and a pink bed-set sized for a toddler. There was a shelf full of dolls and plush rabbits on the wall, a little bookshelf full of thin books meant for kids. It was neat and tidy. _Too_ neat and tidy. The kind of room a family might keep clean and pristine if a child had passed away.

Chris moved on.

The next door on the right was a bathroom. The house was in good care, at least. Nothing suspicious or inherently _strange;_ the bathtub wasn't filled with water, didn't have a bicycle in it. There was no flooding, nothing to indicate the family was feral.

The next door on the left had Chris hesitating, flickering his flashlight around a little more desperately. There had been no name on the door but the bedroom was messy. Lived in. Judging by the hand-drawn art posted on the walls and the state of the books and comics, it was probably an older child. It was hard to tell the gender, the colours neutral, and nothing in particular stood out. Chris's flashlight lit up the bed. The blanket wasn't tucked in to military standards, but it was made to a parent's standards. Chris just hoped the kid wasn't home, was out at a friend's and wouldn't stumble into this mess before it was over.

Quickly, Chris shoved open the final door at the end of the hall, greeted with the stairs he had expected to see. He quickly stepped into the darkness, his flashlight the only thing before him to light up his path.

Halfway down, static filled his comm. Chris flinched, gun snapping up at nothing, his brain confusing the comm for something right beside him. In Chris's ear, Leon was out of breath, but he was alive, and right now that was all Chris could ask for.

“The fam-jam is coming back your way.” Leon said. He didn't sound as critical as he had before, sounded a little more hopeful that he might survive this, was breathing a little easier. Good. There was still barking and growling in the background, but Leon didn't sound like he was in danger.

“What's your status?” Chris asked quietly, every single step creaking under his weight as he hurried. There was nothing silent about him as his boots hit the concrete floor of the basement, the dull slap of his shoes echoing in the narrow hallway. There were more doors ahead on both sides, certainly wasn't the open concept basement people loved these days. This basement was full of secrets.

“They locked me in one of the barn stables.” Leon said quietly. “The Tyrant threw me in and slammed the door before I could get out, and the adults just argued over what to do with me. Sounds like they're conflicted. No one took my shit, so I'm still armed.”

“ _The adults._ ” Chris parroted, a smile on his lips. “Not only are we in detention, but it looks like we're getting grounded too.”

Leon snorted at that. “This is what happens when you trespass and bully other kids, Redfield. Let's just hope they call our parents to come get us.”

“I don't think mom and dad are too happy with us right now.” Chris said, his thoughts drifting back to the new recruit. In the kid's defense, he hadn't had a face for the name _Chris Redfield_ , so when he had opened his mouth to start blabbing about Chris's tendency to lose his teams, mixing the story of Jessica's betrayal with male appreciation for the female anatomy and musing _man, I'd let her be my mole too_ , Chris couldn't stop himself. And the second Claire's name had left the recruits mouth after, along with a derogatory statement about her body and he'd like to have a sister that hot, Chris felt his hand break before he even realized he had hit the kid. Chris had punched the boy with everything he'd had.

Chris had broken his hand, but the new recruit had a broken nose and several fractures in his face. The whole situation was on the down-low, but that didn't mean that Chris was off the hook. The BSAA took situations like this seriously, but usually, it was lower-ranking soldiers, not seasoned warriors like Chris. Which meant for someone like _Chris_ , it was considered a critical situation. Hence the modified-duty.

Belatedly, Chris realized that Leon hadn't responded.

“The Tyrant didn't kill you?” Chris asked, hoping Leon was still there and something positive had happened while Chris was stuck in his own head. He checked the first door downstairs. It was the laundry room.

“Do I sound dead?” Something changed in Leon's voice. He glossed over the details. “I still have all my weapons, they didn't take anything from me. It sounds like they don't want to kill me because... Listen... Redfield? We need to wrap this up and we need to wrap this up before shit hits the fan. I give it an hour.”

“Bad news bears.” Chris parroted again, trying the next door. It swung open, the room completely empty. He was starting to get annoyed, annoyed that he essentially hadn't done _anything_ helpful, annoyed that he had to keep pulling back his flashlight just to use his stupid low-budget comm. “I'm down in the basement. So far, there's been nothing. Do you want me to come get you?”

“No, I'm trying to get out, and right now, this is the worst place for both of us to be.” Leon said. He didn't sound nervous. The way he had yelled Chris's name earlier had Chris spooked, but that tone was nowhere to be heard. “Just finish scouting out the house, I'll be there shortly.”

“Roger that.” Chris said, testing another handle.

He got through the basement – all the rooms empty, either a guest bedroom or just an empty room– before he paused. Upstairs, the family had come back inside, the man groaning and yelling at his wife about his leg. _Leon shot him in the leg,_ Chris remembered. He just hoped that the injury would keep the couple occupied long enough for Chris to find a way back out. He heard the woman enter the hallway, but her footsteps tapered off at the bathroom. Chris hurried anyway.

The last of the six doors was unlocked as well. Ready to shoot, Chris popped the door open and peeked inside.

It was just a bathroom. Nice and tidy like it was only used by guests staying over.

Shaking his head, Chris turned around, feeling cornered. There had been nothing downstairs, no secret labs, no secret entrances to tunnels in the floors. _Upstairs? Or did they just stumble upon a Tyrant and decide to keep it? But the wolves? What the hell is going on here?_

He turned off his flashlight and put it away, turning around. There was enough light coming in from under the door now at the top of the stairs for him to orient himself, and the hallway hadn't been that complicated at all. He pushed his finger into the comm.

“Surprisingly, there's nothing in the basement except a bunch of empty rooms.” Chris said quietly. He glanced to the side, trying to orient himself into the house. If he went to one of the rooms on the right, he could possibly sneak out one of the basement windows and pop up in front of the house, away from the back door where the man was still groaning in the kitchen. If he could make it out of the house, he could sneak back to the barn and help Leon, assuming Leon needed help.

“I'm coming back out, the parents are in.” Chris said. “I'll come to you. We'll regroup and then sweep and hopefully be home in time for breakfast.”

“Roger that.” Leon said. The barking had died down to excited whines in the background. He sounded tired, but not dead.

“Make sure you wait for me.” Chris said. He had made a promise to the President himself. Leon was going home alive. Chris would drag him from Hell if he had to.

Chris snuck into the guest bedroom to his right. The room smelled stale, old from disuse. He quickly moved around to the side of the wall, his eyes locking on the window high near the ceiling.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He would never fit through that. He doubted a _child_ could fit through that window. His escape plan instantly fell through his fingers, but he wasn't deterred. Quickly, Chris prodded around at the nearby bed-stand, pulling open the drawers as quietly as he could, snooping through the family's shit, looking for anything at all. There had to be something in the house. There was a damn _Tyrant_ out in the barn with a bunch of massive wolves, there had to be _something._

He didn't find a single thing.

He was one second from leaving the room to snoop through the others when he heard the sound out in the hallway. It was quiet, sounded like a barefoot slapping the concrete. Carefully, with his Glock raised, Chris ducked behind the mattress, shielding himself from the door. He had been making all sorts of noise, had definitely been loud enough for someone nearby to hear. The skirt of the bed reached the floor, meaning Chris was safe from view below. He doubted he could hide for long, didn't plan to anyway.

The light to the bedroom suddenly flickered on and Chris decided that this was it, there was no point in sneaking around anymore. With his Glock 17 raised, Chris jumped from behind the bed, sights locked on the figure standing in the doorway.

“Hands in the air.” He snapped, gun locked and loaded.

A girl gasped, brown eyes going wide. She was maybe sixteen, tall and scrawny, long black hair pulled into a high bun on her head. She was wearing pajamas like she had been in bed before the commotion had started up. She instantly raised her hands, mouth opening like she was going to scream.

“Get down and be quiet.” Chris snapped as he jumped forward, his gun still on the girl. He hated these moments, hated how the girl whimpered as she ducked down to the ground, hands on her head. He hated that he couldn't trust her, couldn't trust this kid simply because there were wolves and a Tyrant out in her barn, and her parents had already tried to blow off his partner's head.

Chris reached out, ready for the girl to turn around and bite him like a rabid zombie, ready for her to scream, for anything to go wrong, but it never happened. His hand landed on her shoulder, shoving her to the side against the wall, her face turning up to him, cheeks stained instantly with tears.

“I won't hurt you unless I have to.” Chris warned. He hated threatening children, he hated that there had been no sign of this residence on the map, no way to prepare for what was actually happening. He was pretty sure this hadn't even been on Leon's list of neighbors, either, which meant _this_ had really been the hot zone.

“What's your name?” Chris asked.

“Ev- Evelyn.” The girl whimpered. “Evelyn Baker.”

“And your parents?” Chris asked. “Names?”

“Harold and Lilly Baker.” Evelyn whimpered. “Please don't kill me.”

“Why are there wolves in your barn?” Chris asked, his hand still firm on the girl's shoulder. The girl gasped, glancing up. Her eyes instantly teared up again, streaking down her face.

“They're- They're _family_.” The girl sobbed quietly. “I was- I was upstairs watching out the big window when Anna-Mae- when that _guy-_ he killed her-”

“Family?” Chris asked. He thought back to the neat bedroom that hadn't looked lived in, and then he thought back to himself dashing across the backyard. If she had been watching out the upstairs window- “Did you see me come in?”

The girl sniffled before nodding.

“Did you tell anyone that I'm here?”

She shook her head honestly, a plea for her life leaving her wet lips, squeezing Chris's heart. He wondered what to do, knew the girl probably wouldn't keep her mouth shut, especially with her parents _right there_ , upstairs. He wasn't sure what the situation was, but he was starting to feel like the bad guy.

“Please don't kill my mom and dad.” Evelyn sobbed. “They- They're just protecting our family. They've always been this way, please, please, we're not hurting anyone.”

 _God,_ could this get any worse. Chris took in a deep breath, lowering his gun, keeping his wits about him as he pat the girl's shoulder. It sounded like she knew why he was here, sounded like she knew her parents were up to something they shouldn't be. He glanced up to the ceiling, listening to the father, Harold, howl in pain, his wife shushing him as she cleaned his wound.

Chris didn't have much time.

“Is there a way out of this basement that isn't through a tiny window?” Chris asked. “I didn't come in here to hurt anyone and neither did my partner. I don't want to hurt you, but you understand that I can't just let you go.”

Evelyn sniffled, her dark eyes red and wet as she shook her head. “J-just- just the windows. There's no door in here. Please, I'm sorry.” She cried, sobbing into her hands.

Chris's heart clenched. He was going to have to go upstairs, he was going to have to take the kid with him to make sure he got out safely. The clock was ticking. Eventually, that bullet would come out and Harold would be ambling around again. Would the family go to bed? Or would they come looking for their daughter who was obviously not in her room sleeping anymore? At best, Harold was just a regular old man with a shotgun trying to protect his family. At worst? He had the fucking T-virus, or Q-virus or whatever the hell it was this time, coursing through his veins.

Chris pressed a finger to his comm. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. “Agent. What's your status? We have a problem.”

“Great news. I also have a problem. I don't think I'm getting out.” Leon said. He sounded out of breath again, or maybe Chris only noticed because of the silence in the background. “What's _your_ problem?”

“I got caught by a little girl.” Chris said, his eyes turning down to the cowering teen. He felt bad, but there was nothing he could really do about it. She shouldn't have come down here. “I can't get out through the basement windows, but the parentals are upstairs and I don't really want to take this kid with me, _you know_. Think you can cause a distraction? I think we should retreat for now.”

“Why can't you get through the windows?” Leon asked. He chuckled, the ass, probably knew why. “Break them if you have to.”

“Even if the noise wouldn't attract attention, I can't fit.” Chris complained. “Why can't you get out of the stable?”

“I can still cause a distraction for you. Probably.” Leon said instead of answering, and the way he said it made Chris feel like the situation wasn't critically dire. “I don't know if you've heard, but I'm excellent at starting shit.”

“Great, my kind of guy.” Chris said. He tried not to smile, eyes turning back down to the girl. “Be quick.”

“Are the parents inside?” Leon asked.

“They're upstairs pulling out the bullet.” Chris said. “Harold and Lilly Baker. Even if you can just get the wife outside, to go check out the barn, I can probably take out Harold. Neutralize hostiles and collect data.”

“Eliminate.” Leon said simply. “And I'll see what I can do.”

“I can do it, I can distract my mom and dad.” Evelyn said desperately. She glanced up, eyes big and glassy. “I can help you, just don't kill them. Please, sir. _Please._ ”

“No.” Chris said, because he didn't trust her one bit. “You can't.”

“Are you here for Kyle?” The girl asked, her eyes still big and huge. “Kyle hasn't hurt anyone, he's never hurt anyone. He was told by dad not to hurt anyone unless they hurt him, and he won't, I promise. I promise to the bottom of my heart he won't hurt anyone, I'll even pinky promise. He's just a little scary, it's okay. There's an explanation for all of this, sir, I promise!”

“Who's Kyle?” Chris asked, one ear listening for the commotion going on upstairs, dreading the moment the adults realized he was down there, cornering their daughter like a boogeyman in the night.

“He's out in the barn, he protects the Werewolves for us. He's like their shepherd.” Evelyn said quickly and quietly and too damn honest. “He's really big and looks like a monster but he's not, I promise you. He's my older brother but when I was a kid he drank the bad water in the well. My parents told him not to but he did. And then he started to change, but it's okay, he just changed and my parents told him not to hurt anyone and he promised and he won't hurt you or your friend unless you try to hurt him or any of us.”

Chris took in a deep breath. He knew the Tyrant's followed orders, but a boy turning into a Tyrant after drinking bad well water? This sounded like there was more to it. But the girl had a point. If something happened to any of the family members, the Tyrant would turn hostile. It hadn't killed Leon, hadn't noticed Chris yet. Maybe it really was neutral for now.

_Fuck, but I can't just blindly trust that. And there's no way Harold's going to go down without a fight._

But there was also another word that stuck out to Chris, alarms sounding in the back of his skull. “Werewolves?”

“They drank the well water.” Evelyn cried. “It's not their fault. They don't mean to hurt people, they just get excited and forget they have teeth. Anna-Mae was my friend from school, she got infected last year and now she's… now she's dead because of your friend... It wasn't her fault. She was getting a little mean but... She forgets not to bite.”

“Where is this well?” Chris asked, his grip loosening on the child. It didn't make sense. The water had turned one of them into a Tyrant, the rest into wolves? _Did she see it, or is that just what her parents told her? They're with Umbrella. They have to be. There's no other explanation besides they're remotely trying to test out the viruses._

“It's out by the old radio tower behind a little house on the marsh.” Evelyn whispered. “My grandparents used to live out there but they're gone now. Please, please, you need to understand, it's not their fault. They're good, we make sure they're good and if they get too bad we put them down. I promise you they're good. I can give you this to prove it.”

She carefully raised her hands so Chris could see her every movement, before she pulled her necklace out of her shirt. She pulled the chain over her head and placed it in Chris's hand.

It was a thin silver key.

Chris sighed, glancing down at the girl. He didn't know what to do with her, he didn't know what to _do_ , the situation was evolving faster than he could understand it. The parent's hostility was wild – they _had_ to be up to no good. Did they shoot everyone who came out of the woods? Or just everyone who found out their secret.

There were too many questions, and Chris knew from experience he would get the answers in due time.

“I promise I'll only help.” The girl said, her eyes wide and innocent and-

God. Chris didn't trust her one bit, knew better, but he couldn't do what needed to be done.


	4. Planning Ahead Only Works When You Know What's Going On

**[Monday, April 27, 20:36]**

When the Tyrant threw Leon into the stable, he hit the ground hard on his shoulder, pain shooting up his torn shoulder and radiating through his entire body. He groaned as he rolled over, his breath shaky as he clamored to his hands and knees, eyes squeezed shut to fight off the spinning in his head. He didn't move, his ears peeled for the parents, making sure they weren't going to come into the stable _with_ him. They had shuffled into the barn a few minutes after the Tyrant, probably had no idea that Leon was still armed and loaded.

They didn't even come to check, to make sure their Tyrant had brought back the right person. Their confidence was kind of a piss-off.

He was in the last stable furthest away from the door. It was smaller than the others, and judging by the boards on the walls, had been used once upon a time to store tacks for horses amongst other things. Now it was just empty. The table across from him was sturdy but bare, lacking tools or anything Leon could get his hands on to help himself out.

Leon was just glad he was still in one piece.

“Just _kill him_ , Harold.” Lilly said, her voice expressing her disdain. “Please. He's only going to cause problems if we keep him alive! What if he escapes? He's going to tell and then the army will show up at our doorstep!”

“He'll cause problems for us if he's dead too!” Harold snapped. He groaned. Leon heard him shuffle to one of the chairs in the corner by the work table. He fell heavily into it, letting up pressure on his injured leg. “God, Lilly. You're talking like this is the first time one of these fuckers has shown up on our property! The fucking government needs to learn not to trespass! You hear me, pup? Next time you waltz onto someone's property, remember if you get shot, it's only your fault! You're not supposed to be here!”

Leon chuckled, eyes still closed. Oh, he knew alright. He knew that showing up on people's doorsteps, especially if they were hiding a BOW, usually resulted in him being shot at. Stabbed at. Having household objects thrown his way, at his face. He groaned quietly, hand pressing into his chest, fire making his breath stutter.

“Harold, he will go back and tell them exactly what he's seen here! They'll come and take Kyle!” Lilly said. “This is all that bitches fault! We should just kill both of them and be done with it!”

“And then what?” Harold snapped. “If they sent him here, what, you don't they'll notice if he doesn't come back? We're damned if we do, damned if we don't!”

“What are we going to do?” Lilly asked, her voice pitching. “ _Harold?_ What are we going to do? We need some sort of plan. None of our children are safe right now.”

The old man clicked his tongue in annoyance. Gingerly, Leon sat up on his knees, hands on his thighs as he took in a deep breath. The burn was starting to spread into his chest, the fear of the Plaga coming back to him. _I'm not turning, I'm not turning, I'm not-_

But it felt the same. Leon felt just like he had only hours before he had grabbed Ada Wong by the throat, his thoughts swirling out of control, his anger and frustration towards her coming out and manifesting into violence he otherwise was incapable of. A sweat broke out on his forehead, his hands starting to shake. _I'm turning, I'm turning-_

“We'll take him downstairs. Get Winters to look at him. Maybe we can use him.” Harold said, groaning.

“And what about Eve?” Lilly asked. “What about her? There's going to be trouble. Can we send her to your brother's?”

“Jack?” Harold groaned. “You think sending her to the states right now won't look suspicious? The government will just go bother my brother; leave him out of this. Don't you remember his first words to us? He's not here for us. So we'll let Winters have him, lay low, and maybe this will all blow over.”

“Oh sure-” Lilly complained.

“God- Fuck! We have to get this bullet out, Lilly. I should take out his knees after, one in revenge for my own, the other for interest.” Harold scoffed. “We need to get inside. He can't get out of there so we need to go.”

“Okay, yeah, sure thing _Harold_. Let's get you inside.” Lilly said placating. Leon heard her move towards Harold, helping the old man to his feet. The fact that the man was still up and walking around without too much trouble was a bad sign. There was something coursing through his veins, wasn't there? He was infected with something, and Leon hoped to whatever god that was above that Leon wouldn't have to deal with it too.

“Kyle!” Lilly called out, her voice soft and motherly. “Make sure our guest behaves himself!”

There was no answer, but Leon had heard the Tyrant climb back up to the rafters earlier, knew the monster was lurking up there somewhere. It didn't make a sound, both reassuring and ominous. If Leon hadn’t been hyper-fixated on it, he could have forgotten it was up there.

The second Lilly and Harold were out the door, Leon took a deep breath. He leaned forward, lungs wheezing, trying to convince himself he wasn't turning, wasn't about to go feral, wasn't going to turn into a furry creature just like the beasts all around him.

He let out a shuddering breath before placing his hand on the comm, deciding that talking to Chris might be enough to distract himself from the fluttering in his chest, the fear of his impending doom. It might calm his head enough for him to make a decent decision.

“The fam-jam is coming back your way.” Leon said. He hoped the wolves weren't too loud in the background as he continued to jab at Chris, focusing on being as annoying as possible, his panic subsiding until he found he could stand up again. Chris was in the house at least, heading for the basement where everyone usually stored their dirty work. He left Chris to neutralize the house, Leon finally deciding to investigate his own surroundings. He never had time to rest, after all, refused to play the role of sitting-duck. He took a moment to rip off a strip from inside his jacket, wrapping up his bleeding arm as best as he could.

“Shit.” Leon muttered to himself bitterly. He tested the door, kicked it a few times for good measure before he tested the walls, got up on the table, and tested the chain-link ceiling. He swept the hay around, checking the floor for a secret passage, pulled on all the panels looking for puzzles. The Tyrant had melted into the shadows out of sight, out of mind, but Leon knew he was up there. He was up there watching. Guarding. Leon just hoped nothing he did would bring the monster back down.

There was nothing in the stable. There was no way out.

“I'll come to you. We'll regroup and then sweep and hopefully be home in time for breakfast.” It didn't take long for Chris to suddenly get back to him, telling him he was going to come out and get him. It didn't take long for Leon to slump in the corner, taking a moment to catch his breath and finally _breathe_ because he had no other choice _._ He closed his eyes, a hand to his pounding head, the headache right in his temples. He wanted to scream, the fire in his veins leaving him restless and flighty, the cage around him reminding him he was trapped. He reminded himself this was why he did this job; because he fucking hated BOW's and didn't want a single one to be left on this planet. The Plagas too. They could all go extinct for all he cared.

He leaned his head back, eyes closed. He was doing this for the general masses, rather than specific people. He didn't really have anyone these days, not even Sherry. Chris seemed like a nice enough guy. Leon had done some digging on him, knew about his unfortunate trip to Spencer Mansion during Leon's unfortunate trip to the RPD. Chris was doing this for his sister, for the only family he had listed.

That was one person more than Leon had.

“Agent. What's your status? We have a problem.” Chris suddenly crackled in Leon's ear, his voice sounding strained. Leon jolted with a gasp, eyes opening, realizing he had momentarily dozed off. He didn't even feel refreshed. If anything, he felt _worse._

“Great news. I also have a problem. I don't think I'm getting out.” Leon said automatically, remembering the locked door. He tried to steady his breathing as he got to his feet. Shit, he had lost time. How much time? “What's _your_ problem?”

“I got caught by a little girl.” Chris said. Leon realized the situation was getting messier by the minute. Kids were never a good thing. “I can't get out through the basement windows, but the parentals are upstairs and I don't really want to take this kid with me, _you know_. Think you can cause a distraction? I think we should retreat for now.”

“Why can't you get through the windows?” Leon asked instead of responding, understanding that running into a kid was a situation between a rock and a hard place. “Break them if you have to.”

“Even if the noise wouldn't attract attention, I can't fit.” Chris complained. “Why can't you get out of the stable?”

“I can still cause a distraction for you. Probably.” Leon said instead of answering, glancing up to the bars between his stall and the neighbor's, ideas flitting through his mind. However, he swallowed thickly, a little nervous. “I don't know if you've heard, but I'm excellent at starting shit.”

“Great, my kind of guy.” Chris said. He sounded amused. “Be quick.”

“Are the parents inside?” Leon asked.

“They're upstairs pulling out the bullet.” Chris said. “Harold and Lilly Baker. Even if you can just get the wife outside, to go check out the barn, I can probably take out Harold. Neutralize hostiles and collect data.”

“Eliminate.” Leon said. _Baker?_ “And I'll see what I can do.”

Leon cracked his knuckles, eyes closing again to try and ease the headache that had only gotten _worse._

“Cause a distraction, he says.” Leon knew how to start trouble. Trouble could have been his middle name. He dragged the empty table over to his neighbor's wall so that he could stand on it, looking through the metal bars separating him from his furry acquaintance. The wolf had jumped up onto its hind legs to stare at him, a little smaller than the beast that had dragged Leon into this mess, but a beast none-the-less. It had piercing green eyes and sandy brown fur. It cocked its head to the side curiously before shoving its nose into the bars, sniffing frantically.

Leon raised Matilda, pressing the muzzle of the gun as close to the bars as he dared, knowing the beast's snout couldn’t fit through and steal the weapon from him. It was ridiculous, Leon thought, how cute the wolf was when it reared its face back from the gun in unrestrained excitement, ears flopping and head tilting in curiosity like the gun was a toy. It made a little huff noise as it dove back in to try and taste the metal with its tongue, its paws dancing against the wall in excitement.

Leon cocked the gun, aiming, but the stupid creature reared its head back in puppy excitement and yipped before pressing its nose back against the bars. It was domesticated. Through and through, whatever it was, it was domesticated. Leon clicked his tongue. Even a house cat could kill a man. The gun locked on the nose and the tongue excitedly trying to reach him, just an oversized, over-eager mutt that was still among the living and-

_and-_

_-fuck,_ he couldn't pull the trigger.

Leon pulled his gun back, wishing the beast had been snarling at him and showing teeth, had been showing signs of aggression and not cutely inspecting the weapon that was just about to kill it.

The wolf howled stupidly, cutely, paws digging at the wall in excitement. It just wanted to play.

“God damn it.” Leon cursed. There was something about it that made him hesitate. His plan had been to start shooting the beasts down to lure in the parents, but it seemed like he might have to think of something else for right now. _Shoot him now, or shoot him later._

 _“God!”_ Leon clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing at the annoying creature. “Can you play dead or something?”

The wolf howled excitedly, paws slapping against the wall. And now that Leon thought about it, he didn't _have_ to shoot the dog, now did he? He could just start shooting and hope the parentals came back out of fear that he was killing all their pets. Plus, if he started to shoot, maybe his furry neighbor would turn aggressive and he wouldn't have to hesitate to put the beast down.

But he didn't want to waste ammo. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure how many bullets he had left. He hadn't been paying attention.

Frustrated because this was all the ammo he had, Leon's eyes strayed to the stable his neighbor was in. Now that he thought about it, the barn didn't stink like fecal matter and dog piss, the smell in the barn was actually tolerable. If anything, wet-dog was the most pressing scent, meaning that the stalls were regularly cleaned, meaning the wolves were probably let out on a frequent basis. Maybe… maybe they weren't the beasts STRATCOM had been talking about. Fourteen massive savage wolves would have attracted attention, so...

It didn't make any fucking sense. Why did the Bakers have wolves? And a Tyrant to guard said wolves? What were they really trying to achieve here? Domesticated mutants? Were they breeding and selling the wolves on the black market? Why were the wolves giant? Where did they get the _Tyrant?_

The Tyrant was rock still in the shadows like he was just a neutral guard – might actually kill Leon if he shot one of the wolves in front of him, now that he thought about it – and the wolves just wanted to play. What the hell was this?

Leon didn't regret killing the last beast. Not yet. That one had been snarling and growling, had been snapping Leon up. Had _infected_ him.

Leon shoved his finger into his comm, a headache blossoming at the front of his skull. His arm had stopped hurting as much after he wrapped it, his head feeling a little more stable. He was warm though, too warm like he had a fever coming on, and that whole arm was still numb. His insides were still burning, but he wasn't as worried about it as he had been.

They didn't have time.

“What's your status?” Leon asked.

“Waiting for you.” Chris said. “We don't have time, Leon. I'm at a standstill and I don't want to do anything I don't have to. The parents sound like they're finishing up.”

True. They were at a stand-still, and it was starting to wear Leon thin. But it sounded like Chris was going to have to make hard decisions. Leon didn't bother answering, eyes turning up to the ceiling, searching for something, anything to drop, to make noise, before he went back to the door, investigating the lock. He hadn't been able to reach before, but maybe if he dragged the table over…

His neighbor began to woof quietly in excitement as Leon shoved the table across the ground again, shoving it up against the door. The mutt was so stupid. It was so annoying. The wolf howled happily, paws dancing against the wall.

Ignoring the beast, Leon clambered on top of the table before pulling out his knife, sticking his arm between the bars, and reaching as far down for the lock as he could. It was one of those simple slide locks, impossible for creatures without thumbs but easy enough for a toddler to get past if they were on the right side. Leon's knife hardly reached the handle. It just touched it, dancing along the edge. He just needed one more inch.

“Holy shit.” Leon complained loudly, his frustration and pain getting the better of him. “A little help here? Anyone? What the fuck?”

He swiped his knife at the lock again before pulling his arm back into the stable and scrambling back off the table. He huffed, eyes narrowed at the door before he angrily sheathed his blade and dragged the table back away from the door.

“I don't have time for this shit.” Leon hissed. He took a step back from the door and lifted his leg. Knee to chest, he slammed his boot down into the handle, hearing the lock rattle under the pressure. He huffed and kicked again, the wood holding firm. He drew his leg back, aiming now for what looked like the weaker section, hearing the wood thud hollowly beneath his foot. That was better. Not ideal, but he could work with it.

The floorboards suddenly shook beneath him, a dull thud making Leon gasp. Leon stumbled away from the door, grabbing for the table to steady himself.

The Tyrant landed from the second floor, the floorboards shaking beneath him. The monster stood, head-turning Leon's way for a second to stare at him. Leon thought his heart stopped. He tried to remind himself that the Tyrant's were under explicit orders, and that if the monster hadn't killed him out in the woods, it was likely he wouldn't kill Leon now instead. But the one back in the RPD… that one had taken an interest...

The Tyrant stormed closer, eyes staring down at Leon. Leon's hands going cold, eyes wide as the monster stopped just outside his stable. The monster was taller, broader than the one back in Raccoon city, its face older but somehow softer than what Leon had expected. Leon's throat was dry, memories flashing back to him, the dead reporter underneath the Police department with the eyeball oozing out from his skull, the zombies he thought he had put down in advance _knowing_ they would come back for him, knowing not to trust the feeling of luck when Leon discovered that the cell doors were all locked.

The Tyrant under the RPD had shoved Leon down to the floor by his neck, and Leon had realized in that very moment that the monster hadn't been chasing him to put him down like the rest of the witnesses. A panic-attack and torn clothes later, Leon had blindly rushed back into the parking garage with an empty clip, the flash grenade still leaving spots in his eyes before the Tyrant had smashed through the wall and snatched him up by the throat once again. The monster had taken an unhealthy interest in him, an unhealthy interest that crossed Leon's mind every time something humanoid set its eyes on him a little too keenly.

Leon swallowed thickly, eyes locked on the Tyrant. It didn't hold that same curiosity as the other one. The stable was large enough for the beast to duck inside, made to fit wolves of a similar berth. Leon didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit. He wasn't panicking, wasn't lapsing into confusion, wouldn't mistake the tremors in his hands for the Plaga finally emerging and taking over his body. He was just _stressed._ He took a breath, not really sure what he was doing, but he was doing his best.

“Can you open the door?” Leon tried. The Tyrant had dropped down when Leon had called for help, a little voice in the back of his head nagging him, reminding him that the Tyrant's followed explicit orders. If the monster hadn't hurt Leon in the woods, it was possible it wouldn't hurt him now either. If the Tyrant was being kept as a member of the family, Lilly crying over the dead wolf at her feet and cooing at the massive beast in the rafters, it was possible the Tyrant could be manipulated just like any other person.

Maybe. Hopefully. It never hurt to try.

The Tyrant's head tilted as it swayed closer, boots heavy on the ground. It was too dark for Leon to be able to see well, but the jacket the Tyrant was wearing was odd. It looked more like a robe as it stepped closer, a robe made out of other, smaller jackets. Homemade. Leon really hoped there was a limiter under there.

“Can you open the door, _please_?” Leon tried again, eyes glancing up. The Tyrant hadn't tried to hurt the family, hadn't even glanced at the yowling wolves in annoyance. There was something very weird about this whole residence, and Leon didn't really want to stick around any longer than he had to.

The Tyrant stepped closer, eyes still curiously locked on Leon, head tilting. There was no way for Leon to know what its orders were, no way for Leon to know if he was making a huge mistake. But what was he supposed to do? Sit around and wait for the family to make their move first? For Chris to shoot the family and the girl he'd run into before coming back outside.

 _This is why I hate partners. They decide to rely on me instead of making hard choices._ Chris could easily neutralize the family. The parents were hostile. End of story. The kid lived here, she would just be collateral. Why was he waiting? Because he thought he could question them? Thought they would give him nice solid answers? Leon knew better. _Yet I didn't shoot the wolf._

The Tyrant didn't move. Leon leaned back against the table, ready to jump over it at a moment's notice. He was irritated. His head was pounding, his heart fluttering. He understood _why_ Chris didn't want to just kill the hostiles, but it still irked Leon beyond belief.

Leon took in a deep breath, pulling Matilda from her holster. He raised the gun, aiming with his left hand through the bars at the Tyrant's head, his heart skipping through his chest. _Don't do it._

Leon glanced over to the wolf beside him, the dumb, idiotically adorable fur-ball that was still staring at him like Leon was his favorite person. Its tongue was even lolling from its mouth.

Not once had the wolf flashed teeth.

He didn't know how many bullets he had left and Leon couldn't afford to miss. Every shot counted. Leon took a deep breath, staring at the Tyrant, eyes locked on its stupid wide-brimmed hat. He pressed his finger up to his ear, hoping his breath wasn't as loud and shaky as he thought it was.

“Your distraction is up next in five seconds. Get ready.” Leon said. He didn't wait for Chris's reply, didn't wait for a status update.

Leon took a steady breath, brought his right fist under his left wrist as he tried to steady his aim, sealing his fate. He leaned the gun against the bars for more balance, blood-loss, and torn muscles really skewering with his sights.

He shot off the Tyrant's hat.

The Tyrant didn't even flinch, bald head exposed to the elements. It was like he didn't even notice Leon had blown his hat right off him. It simply blinked, still staring like it was waiting for Leon to do something that required it to move. Was it just here to make sure Leon stayed inside the stable? If Leon shot at the wolf, would it come in after him?

Regardless, Leon was armed and that was a problem to everyone besides Leon.

He also had personal hate for Tyrants.

“You don't care? Guess you're all different after all.” Leon said, eyes narrowing. He raised his gun again, steadying his aim. The Tyrant didn't look bothered by the gun in the slightest, probably knew his skin was indestructible. Leon lined himself up, waiting for his heads to steady for a fraction of a second, waiting for that perfect moment. The Tyrant's skin might be indestructible, but his eyes weren't.

The gunshot echoed throughout the barn, causing a few of the wolves to bark in surprise. The Tyrant himself staggered back a step, one hand to its face, before it fixed its eyes on Leon, one of them bleeding red, lips pulling back in annoyance. Its expression blatantly clear, and it suddenly lurched forward, hands wrapped around the bars of the stable door.

“Atta boy.” Leon said before jumping over the table just as the Tyrant ripped the door off the stable. His heart suddenly started to pound in his chest, fear setting every nerve on fire as the Tyrant ripped the door clean of its hinges and tossed it away. It bent the mesh roof of the smaller stable, ducking so its massive height could fit inside without problems.

Leon waited a prolonged second, waited for the Tyrant to move around the table so Leon could cut and run. He had spent more than enough time duping zombies, low ammo causing him great stress. He had also spent hours in the RPD dodging this exact monster. He knew how to do this. He could do this.

The Tyrant shoved the table out of the way, rushing straight at Leon with a hand outstretched for him. Remembering the Super Tyrant back in the lift under Raccoon city, Leon dashed forward and ducked underneath the monster's swinging hand, before ducking between its legs and under the table. He crawled quickly before getting on his feet and rushing for the ruined door.

He ran out into the stable, head spinning and vision threatening to go, and then darted around the corner, heading for the big barn doors. The Tyrant stepped after Leon, more wood and metal breaking beneath its hands, the wolves starting to bark and howl their excitement. The noise became unbearable as Leon struggled to get the door to the barn open, his breath gone and his body threatening to give out. His arm was bleeding again, his shoulder hot, wet, and warm.

Behind him, the Tyrant started to run as Leon started to run back into the yard, heading straight for the house. The Tyrant would chase him down in the woods, but the house?

Leon didn't have time for this shit anymore. The burning in his veins was starting to spread, starting to intensify. He wanted answers, and if Chris didn't want to kill the family right away, then Leon wanted answers _now._

Leon didn't have a lot of _time._

**[Monday, April 27, 20:55]**

Chris didn't know what Leon had meant by a distraction until he _heard it._ The wolves were howling up a storm from the barn, the noise loud and chaotic. Upstairs, Harold swore, his wife whispering to him in a hushed voice. Chris got ready, dragging the girl to her feet with him, his only goal to get out of the house. He needed to neutralize the kid before he could neutralize the parents.

Wait, why the hell was Leon coming _in?_

Chris heard the back door open, the handle slamming into the wall, and suddenly, Chris realized Leon had changed the plan without informing him, had probably forgotten to update him because he was a solo-agent and a solo-agent had the flexibility to change his plans on a whim.

“I've had enough of you.” He heard Leon yell upstairs. “Get down!”

“Fuck.” Chris swore.

“Don't kill them.” Chris said into his comm, didn't know what _had enough_ meant in Leon's books, but he stood up anyway, dragging the girl with him. If he knew anything from the craziness that Leon had drug them immediately into, it was that Chris needed to hurry because he probably didn't have a lot of time before everything inevitably got worse. If he had known Leon was just going to charge the family, Chris would have taken the time to tie up the daughter before doing it himself.

He dragged Evelyn behind him as he ran into the basement hallway. The girl didn't protest, hadn't answered any of Chris's questions, only promising him that she would speak if Chris spared her parents. She had hinted that she knew more than she was letting on, was possibly a silent observer in this whole situation.

Right now, her parent's lives were in Leon's hands.

It didn't take long for Chris to get to the top of the stairs, didn't take long for Chris to round the corner to the kitchen with his gun raised. He scanned the room instantly, his gun locking on Lilly standing in the corner because she was the only threat running loose besides Leon himself.

“Eve! Eve, go to your room!” Lilly yelled, her hands in the air above her head. She was crying, standing back from Leon who was still in the doorway, Harold on the ground beneath him. The man wasn't wearing pants, his right leg wrapped in gauze from the knee down. Leon had a boot on the man's back, his gun in both hands was raised at the back of the man's head, the back door wide open behind him. Leon didn't look too good, didn't look like he should be standing, didn't look like he should be aiming a deadly weapon. His right hand was wet and red, jacket torn to shreds on the right side, his face pale.

Chris wasn't sure what the fuck was going on, but he wasn't about to question Leon in front of the Bakers.

“Mom?” Evelyn asked nervously from behind Chris, but she didn't move, didn't run. Chris waved at her, encouraging her to move to his side just in case the kid tried to do something like run or stab him with a kitchen knife. He trusted Leon was a good shot, but Leon shooting the girl or accidentally shooting Chris instead were both bad options. Leon's hands didn't look steady at all.

“What's the order, Kennedy?” Chris asked, stealthily implying that he had no idea what the hell Leon was doing or what he planned to do. What the fuck was going on? How did it come to this? Chris had played sitting-duck to _avoid_ this.

“Where did you get the Tyrant?” Leon asked, his first priority apparently. And at the end of the day, the Tyrant was the only thing both of them could confirm to be within their jurisdiction. Maybe Leon wasn't wrong to pin the family after all.

“What Tyrant?” Harold asked calmly. Too calmly. He didn't look afraid, didn't sound afraid, laid out on his own kitchen floor with his hands raised in surrender. Chris didn't like it one bit. There was something wrong with this situation, something that felt a little too convenient, and Chris didn't think it was just because Leon sounded a little paranoid.

“The giant monster in your barn, man, where did you get him?” Leon asked, his voice rising. He was breathing heavily, hands shaking dangerously. He nudged his boot into Harold’s back for emphasis, jostling the man beneath him.

“That's my son.” Harold said calmly, his palms still flat on the ground. “And you'd be smart to remember that. His name is Kyle Baker, and he is going to take you both to your new rooms.”

Leon opened his mouth to retort just as the Tyrant ducked and twisted through the back door silently like he was used to coming inside, Chris watching like the whole scene was playing in slow-motion. Chris's mouth opened to yell just as the Tyrant swung his massive hand, catching Leon by the back of his head, blond hair disappearing beneath its fingers. Evelyn bolted at that moment for the living-room, Chris instantly going to track her with his gun just as the Tyrant slammed Leon into the wall, cracking the drywall beneath the wallpaper. It's hand unclenched, Leon sagging to the ground.

Chris heard it, hoped to the moon and back that the sound had been the wall and not Leon's skull.

Lilly suddenly screamed, lunging for Leon with her hands, and a shot rang out. Leon wasn't dead but he was on the floor, trying to get back up. Everything was happening too fast. Chris fired several shots at the Tyrant's head, aiming for its bloody eye as well as its good one, as the beast went for Leon again. Harold Baker got up from the ground. Lilly staggered away from the commotion, her hands on her hip, blood staining her robes.

On the ground, Leon fired rapidly, his gun pointing up towards the Tyrant's face. Chris suddenly realized that the monster no longer had a hat, its eye bleeding profusely. _Didn't he tell me not to shoot the hat?_

Chris swore, stepping to the side to hopefully stay out of Leon's blind line of fire. Harold was approaching Leon, so Chris took the shot. There was too much fucking chaos – this was worse than if Chris had just come up here himself.

The old man hollered, dropping to his knees as the shot tore through the same leg Leon had already taken out. The Tyrant glanced up at Chris, his hands around Leon's neck, before tossing the agent aside into the kitchen, stalking after Chris specifically. Chris saw Leon land on the kitchen table, the bowl of fruit in the center of it flying off the table and smashing to the ground.

His ears were ringing, eyes wide, body moving on autopilot. This was the craziness he had become used to, the craziness that left him shaking after everything calmed down and chuckling a little madly. This was the madness that truly scared him.

Chris took a step back, reloading before the Tyrant lunged for him. Turning around, Chris fled into the living-room, swearing under his breath as he turned back to shoot at the Tyrant, the monster shoving the living-room furniture aside easily but carefully to quickly stalk up to Chris.

“Fuck-” Chris turned away because he didn't have time, running up the stairs, hoping that the monster's weight would be too much.

No such luck. The Tyrant seemed to know, following Chris up the steps slower than he had been moving previously, carefully like he had learned where to step for the most support. Upstairs, Chris turned to the right, trying to remember what the outside of the house had looked like, wondering if there was a room with a window he could use to access the peaked roof. He didn't even consider the danger that snow would pose, didn't even think about it.

He ran for the nearest room, throwing open the door before dashing for the window. He hadn't gotten lucky, the two-story drop straight to the ground looking a little daunting. He was all turned around, backward. But the Tyrant was right there behind him and Chris could only wonder what would happen to Leon if Chris jumped from the window and the Tyrant had to go back downstairs.

“Kennedy?” Chris yelled into his comm just as the Tyrant lunged for him. Chris duped him around the bed, aiming his body towards the window, letting the Tyrant sway out of the way before Chris threw himself towards the door, running for his goddamn life. He hadn't even had time to check out his surroundings, to see if this was a room he should come back too.

_Damn!_

Chris flew down the stairs so fast he worried about falling, his momentum throwing him into the living-room wall before he took back off toward the kitchen.

Chris paused in the doorway. The kitchen was empty, the backdoor still wide open. Evelyn was hiding out somewhere upstairs he assumed, the Tyrant flying down the steps after him, catching up. Chris realized that he only had two options.

The Bakers were gone. Leon was gone. All that remained was blood and snow melting into the floorboards. The basement door was closed now unlike how he had left it, the backdoor still open.

He could go downstairs where he knew there was a dead-end, or he could lure the Tyrant back outside and hope he could shake it off, hope Leon would suddenly be in his ear laughing this off.

“Fuck-” Chris bolted out the back door into the snow, his hand to his ear. “Leon? Where are you? Status!”

The comm crackled twice like it had earlier when Leon had been pressing the button but nothing had been coming through.

“Oh, he's fine.” Harold said. He laughed. “You, however, will need luck.”


	5. Professionals Don't Always Know The Answers Because Knowledge Is Subject To Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye. That one warning comes in now.

**[Tuesday, April 28, 01:33]**

When Leon came to, he came to slowly. One sense at a time, he woke up, the burning in his veins the first thing he felt. He couldn't really remember what had happened, remembered shooting the Tyrant in the eye, and then booking it for the house. He had knocked Harold Baker down, had demanded to know where the Tyrant had come from when Chris had shown up, and then he remembered…

He didn't really remember much of anything after that.

He was suddenly aware that someone was touching his right arm, a voice he didn't recognize murmuring over him. It took him a moment, took him a couple of blinks to come back too, the words starting to sound like English, starting to make sense. He didn't remember hitting his head, but the pain at his temples told him otherwise. _Shit, I got caught, didn't I?_

“So how far along is he?”

Leon's brows creased, the words not quite making sense. He groaned as he glanced at his situation, confused as to why he was strapped down to a chair. Soft cuffs encircled his wrists, cuffs that weren't hastily thrown together after Leon's sudden appearance. No, this chair had been made specifically to restrain someone. The Bakers had done this before.

He blinked, and then he blinked again before his eyes went wide, recognizing Harold and Lilly standing in front of him. Lilly was leaning back against the wall, a room Leon didn't recognize. It was small and cramped. There was a metal-framed cot pushed into the corner with sheets tucked in to military standards. There was a dresser, probably storing things Leon rather wouldn't know about, and then there was his chair. He pulled on his arms, the metal holding fast.

Lilly had changed clothes, the blood no longer present at her waist. She wasn't hunched over either like she was in pain, was standing casually with her arms crossed. Harold was standing closer, about a foot away from Leon with his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face. Now that he thought about it, Leon remembered being thrown onto the table by the Tyrant, remembered the father grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and dragging him outside. Where had they gone?

There was a woman Leon didn't recognize knelt in front of him, an older woman with black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had one hand on Leon's injured arm – his jacket was gone, he noticed, clearly, that style of jacket was just bad luck – and the other was holding a round scope, using it like one would a flashlight against his chest. Leon blinked at it, the purplish-blue lenses familiar before his eyes widened.

He had used one of those scopes in Spain to shoot the Plagas out of the Regeneradors. However, this one didn't look like it could be attached to a rifle. This one was just a scope, the lens-end wider to leisurely observe more area. _Oh shit, oh shit, is she looking for the Plaga?_

“Well, Winters?” Harold urged, his beady eyes locked on Leon. He had an excited crook to his lips, eyes locked on Leon and Leon alone.

“The virus hasn't quite spread over half his body yet. It's moving slower than usual.” Winters said, her voice gentle and much kinder than Leon expected. She didn't glance up, still gazing through the scope aimed towards his chest. Leon just hoped he was wrong, hoped she was looking at whatever venom the wolf had poisoned him with.

“And?” The father urged.

“Harold, just let her look at him. She'll tell you when she's ready.” Lilly said in annoyance, trying to calm him.

“Why isn't he taking as fast as usual?” Harold asked, his voice unmistakably excited.

Leon cleared his throat, glancing down to the gaunt woman knelt before him. She glanced back up to Leon at the sound, surprised he was awake, hazel eyes apologetic. “It seems he's been infected before. His blood showed antibodies that wouldn't normally be present, which means he's been infected by similar based viruses before and cured. The antibodies are slowing it down, but they won't stop it. He might actually pull through easier in the end, though. Actually, with the antibodies, his chance of survival might be much higher than usual. I'll be sure to note what's in his system, test to see if antibodies will keep more of our subjects alive. But there was something else.”

 _Oh shit._ Leon was suddenly very alert and very awake. He glanced down at the woman in a panic. _The fucking Plaga-_

“It seems he's had a case of the Plagas.” Winters said. She lowered the scope, her eyes still soft and apologetic as she glanced up to Leon. “Rather, a single Plaga. The egg never hatched. It was hard to find because it was hiding, but your blood told me it was in there somewhere. The Plagas usually like to sit in the chest cavity, but it looks like your egg was harmed at some point. It fell down and attached itself behind your hip bone.”

Leon's vision suddenly swam. The room was suddenly too hot, the fire in his veins too intense. Hadn't he had his blood tested? How had they missed it? Did Winters know something he didn't? Tested for something STRATCOM hadn't known to test for?

“So it's still in there?” Harold asked curiously, and god, oh god, Leon was suddenly going to be sick. At least it had been harmed. But what did that mean? Was it dead? Was it just going to become a cancerous lump? He'd rather have it turn sour than hatch into a Plaga.

“I killed it with UV radiation.” Leon said. He made direct eye contact with Winters, his tone unwavering.

He was lying through his teeth and panicking while looking fine. _Shit!_

“You didn't.” Winters said surely. She patted his arm reassuringly. “It must have been rendered dormant, but it saved you from the Wolf-virus, so don't complain just yet.”

“Wolf-virus?” Leon asked, thinking of the furry creatures outside. _Are they turning people into wolves? Are they selling them on the black market? But why giant wolves?_

“Can it be mutated?” Harold asked. He leaned over Winters' shoulder, inspecting Leon's face a little too keenly for Leon's liking. His teeth were gross, rotting in his face. “You said the Plaga is still an egg?”

“I wonder what made it dormant. You said UV?” Winters mused to Leon specifically, her eyes lighting up in curiosity as she glanced up to him. There was something about her that made Leon's skin crawl, distrust flashing through him, and a nauseating sense of apprehension. Leon didn't answer, keeping his mouth shut for once.

“The Wolf-virus seems to have reactivated it. It hasn't moved, but it's not dead. It's interacting with the Plaga infection. Hard to predict what will happen; I've never seen these two viruses come in contact before.” Winters said. She stood up, patting Leon's arm. “It's likely the Wolf-virus will dominate over the dormant Plaga egg. If this is true, we may have just found a way to evolve the Wolf-virus, as well as give our hosts a fighting chance to survive the takeover. It's possible he may gain the strengths and attributes of the Plaga, while retaining the ability to transform at will. Perhaps this will slow the degeneration of the mind as well.”

“So it's mutating?” Harold asked. He sounded excited. Leon felt sick.

“It's trying.” Winters said. Her tone was apologetic, but Leon instantly realized that her eyes were alight and excited. He knew when people were lying just to have fun. “You should fertilize it. Give the virus something to bind to, the egg something to grow with, something extra to bring everything together. The Plaga need a Master, you know. Your sperm already holds the key-components of the Wolf-virus, and a second dose of the virus should help everything bind easier. Perhaps if you fertilize the egg, the Plaga will recognize you as the Master. I know that in women, sexual contact with an infected person can improve the mutations. I've never seen it done with a dormant egg, however. It wouldn't hurt to try.”

 _It wouldn't hurt to try._ If Leon hadn’t already felt faint, he would have. His tired eyes slid to Harold apprehensively, the words slowly registering in the back of his mind.

_Fertilize-_

“Does it matter how?” Harold asked. He looked Leon up and down hungrily.

“No.” Winters said. “The Plagas like to hang around the chest cavity after they hatch, but regardless of where you deposit, it will move for it. The stomach might be the easiest because the Plaga already feeds off the nutrients there, and his isn't where it's supposed to be. Perhaps it will be prompted to move, to return to the chest cavity.”

Leon's head was spinning. He was trying to understand what they were talking about trying to understand what the end goal was. Leon couldn't understand what he was hearing, all he could think about was Jack Krauser after his arm had been destroyed, Jack Krauser before he had turned _bad-_

“It won't work. Your logic is flawed.” Leon said, his tone coming out strong despite the horror. His voice didn't waver, nothing in his tone to indicate that he was scared. He even chuckled, eyebrows raising at Winters. “You have no idea what you're doing. I was there in Spain. It won't work. The Dominant species Plaga won't accept the virus as its master.”

“I'm a Researcher of the highest standing. I know what I'm doing and I know that I always need to try.” Winters said, but judging from where she was and how wrangled she looked, that was not the case. She belonged in a fancy lab, dressed like she had come _out_ of a fancy lab. So what was she doing in residence, out in the middle of nowhere?

“Oh yes, because hiding out in a farmhouse puts you at the highest caliber. You're trying to make monsters, for what?” Leon asked, his voice coming out clipped because _she_ looked like Umbrella, she even sounded like Umbrella too. The rest of the family might have been collateral damage and- wait-

Harold had the Wolf-virus? Transforming at will? _What the fuck is the wolf-virus?_ Leon really hoped he wasn't destined to sprout fur and suddenly become as stupid as his furry neighbor had been out in the barn.

“I'm not trying to make monsters.” Winters said, her voice final. “I'm trying to improve what nature already gave us, and the least I can do is save your life.”

“Save my life?” Leon asked with a scoff. “Tying me to a chair and encouraging a guy to harm me? How is that saving my life.”

“You can't leave here like this.” Winters said. “You're already turning, there's not enough time for you to go crawling back to wherever you came from. You won't save yourself, and you'll only harm other people. You need to stay for now.”

 _You're already turning._ Leon knew she was bullshitting, but he still shivered, still suddenly fixated on the burn spreading up his right side, leaving everything numb and tingling. The fear crashed back through him, the anxiety and paranoia that had been haunting him for weeks finally erupting from the bottle he had managed to cram the emotions into. He inhaled deeply, shakily, trying to stifle the panic rising in his chest, bared his teeth in frustration instead. He had hair in his face, but his next sassy retort was cut off.

“Okay, let's go. We need to go take care of his friend, remember? And I can't find Eve.” Lilly said. She moved away from the wall easily like Leon hadn't shot her earlier, like the wound had _healed_ , her hand reaching out for Winters' arm. The older woman glanced over her shoulder at Harold, her eyes soft.

She didn't say anything as she left, only nodded Harold's way.

The door slammed shut, the silence suddenly settling heavily, Leon's heavy breaths echoing in his ears. It was just him and Harold, the old man finally pulling his hat from his head, setting it down on the dresser behind him. He reached down for the tie on his robe, and Leon's mouth went dry as he tracked the movement, already knowing what was going to happen. His left hand went cold, right still numb and on fire. He started to wiggle in the chair, the restraints holding him fast as he twisted and shifted, the movements getting more and more violent with each step closer Harold took.

“You heard the lady. And you don't want to bite, boy, or I'll stick it in your pretty little ass after.” Harold said, stepping out of his pajama pants that dropped from his hips, his hand snagging between his legs and stroking himself to life. “I like to thoroughly breed my bitches, if you catch my drift.”

Leon's eyes widened, his thoughts flashing back to the wolves in the stables, his eyes locking onto the older man's crotch as he approached. Suddenly, Leon remembered bad nights with Jack Krauser before Krauser had been declared dead. Suddenly, Leon remembered what the Tyrant tried to do in the basement of the RPD. Suddenly, Leon wasn't sure he could handle this on his plate too. He'd been taken advantage enough in his life already, and nothing really ever worked out for him, now did it? All he knew was that he needed to keep his head on his shoulders, because any lapse in judgment might send him spiraling out of control.

Again.

He thought back to that night a couple of weeks ago, when he thought the Plaga was taking over his body, had succumbed to the fear and paranoia. His breath had been coming out too fast just like it was now, his hands shaking so bad he could hardly grip his combat knife. Desperately, he had tried to cut it out, had slit open his entire forearm before realizing what he was doing, realizing that he had just been set off by seemingly nothing. The Plagas hid the chest cavity after all, so what the hell was he doing?

He had done the responsible thing and had gone to STRATCOM's infirmary, where he had immediately been given stitches before being placed under watch and temporary _modified-duty._ He hadn’t even had the chance to explain himself. And after being a thorn in STRATCOM's side for the next few weeks, they had sent him _here._

Leon started to rock the chair, squirming desperately, suddenly remembering dropping off Ashley back at home, safe and sound, reassuring her that everything would be alright because they had killed off the Plagas. Leon hadn't known he'd just rendered the Plagas dormant, had just realized that sexual contact with someone infected could revive the egg, bring it back to life. Would mutate it and make it all _worse. Ashley knew what was happening to her._

Kicking apart Leon's knees and stepping inside of them, as close to Leon as he could get, Harold shoved his thumb past Leon's lips. His thumb snagged behind his molars in the corner of his jaw, pressing hard, jarring Leon from his inner dread, prying his mouth open.

“Remember, boy. If you bite, I'll just pick a different hole to fill.” Harold said, his thumb salty and disgusting. Leon's head snapped back into the chair, effectively trapped between a rock and a hard place. _Bad analogy!_

Harold guided himself to Leon's lips, and Leon knew before the man even pressed himself in that he was going to bite, he was going to bite as hard as he fucking could and hopefully rip the man's dick off with his teeth alone. He wasn't going down without a fight – never had. Not even with Krauser, not even with that horrible Tyrant down in the RPD. Leon had made it out of that one. Maybe he would make it out of this one too.

He suddenly understood why Ashley had done it, in the end. Preemptively knowing that something monstrous was going to flow through Leon's veins, changing him, making him worse than the average, more lethal and harder to put down – perhaps Matilda might find herself snug up underneath Leon's jaw before that could happen.

The second Harold's member breached Leon's lips, Leon snapped his teeth. It was like the man had expected it though, jerked himself out before Leon could properly rip into the man's organ, before he could tear the tip off in one clean snap.

Leon still got him, though. He didn't rip the man's dick off, but he got him. There was blood and a wheeze, and Leon grinned, blood staining his lips. His eyes slid up, watching Harold's face pinch in awful pain.

“You little fucking shit.” Harold snapped. With the back of his hand, he slapped Leon across the face, watching the way Leon's hair whipped to the side, before Harold shoved his thumb back in between Leon's teeth. He slammed himself into Leon's mouth, hitting the back of his throat and choking him, Harold's free hand snagging up underneath Leon's jaw and squeezing until the breath left him.

Leon couldn't bite. He couldn't breathe. He struggled against the restraints, head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut as Harold continued to thrust into his mouth quickly, treating this more like a job than a session for pleasure. At least there was that.

Tears leaked from the corners of Leon's eyes, pressure building up in his temples from the lack of breath. Saliva coated his chin as the man rutted into him, and before Leon could come to terms with what was happening, could let his thoughts drift off somewhere else, a beastly growl left Harold. Leon's bleary eyes cracked open, glancing up.

Harold's body started to morph. His skin started to bubble against Leon's face, the organ in his mouth swelling and growing acidic in taste. The hands on Leon started to elongate, the thumb in his mouth suddenly piercing through his gums, drawing blood. Leon choked, eyes narrowing at the eye that suddenly popped up from within Harold's elbow, popping up with a wet sound, blinking desperately like something annoying had touched it.

Leon's eyes squeezed back shut, hands and feet jerking against the chair as the man became a beast, and this was no wolf like the ones outside in the barn. This monster had the virus written all over it, fur-less with bulging black muscles, foot-long talons suddenly protruding from every nail and hooking around Leon's jaw dangerously. Harold vaguely resembled a wolf, more like the really ugly werewolves, the ones from those B-rated movies. His snout had lengthened, nose merely two holes, lips pulled back to show off ugly rotting teeth.

The beast climaxed down Leon's throat, ropes of warm semen shooting into Leon, so much that some of it came back up his nose and dribbled down his face when he choked on it, hands jerking against the binds on the chair.

Harold howled, hips rocking into Leon's face as he came down from his high, the knot shoving straight into Leon's nose, pressing against his lips.

Leon was just thankful _that_ hadn't fit inside his mouth.

When Harold finally pulled out after catching his breath, Leon had already swallowed everything before he could literally drown in it. He let his mouth hang open as he panted, mucus and saliva sliding down his chin, eyes closing again as he turned his head away, trying to collect himself. His stomach churned uncomfortably. He gagged, but nothing came up. He really didn't think he could lean over far enough to not puke on himself, so he kept his eyes closed as he breathed through it. But his stomach was burning, he could feel the weight in it. The pain in his shoulder suddenly flared like that virus was responding to whatever Harold had just dumped inside of him.

_Oh God, it's all going to get worse, isn't it? I'm turning, and I'll be the worst-_

He opened his eyes when he could, blearily staring at the monster before him. He was still in danger. He needed to focus.

Harold, the beast he had become, dropped down to all fours. He still had his facial features, which was unnerving, his ears long and fleshy and pulled back behind his head. His snout had elongated, a disgusting mix of human and canine teeth in his mouth. He flashed his yellow teeth at Leon, bigger than the wolves outside, and Leon thought back to when he had been trapped in the stable with Matilda aimed at his furry neighbor's snout. If his furry neighbor had looked like Harold, Leon wouldn't have hesitated to pull the trigger. No. Standing before him was the Wolf-virus. The wolves in the shed? He had no fucking idea how they played into all of this.

He was going to wipe them all out regardless.

Harold licked his chops, raising his hairless tail that looked and snapped through the air like a whip before he started to howl. The sound was animalistic before it tapered off into human screaming as he transformed back into a man, blood and black sludge dripping from his body as he went, splashing on the floor. Naked, Harold stood before him, leaning against the arms of Leon's chairs, moaning in satisfaction and pain. His breath was awful in Leon's face, smelled like the rotting dead back in Raccoon city. Harold's hands went back to his hips as he stood up slowly and huffed.

He glanced down at Leon with a grin before moving in closer again. Leon tried to jerk away, his head turned as far to the side as he could, but Harold caught him by his neck again, one hand around his jaw, forcing Leon to look at him.

“We'll give that some time to take.” Harold said, cutting Leon a grin, his teeth the only thing Leon could see. “If it doesn’t work, we'll try the other way. I wouldn't puke if I were you. Wouldn't want to make this any worse for yourself, right?”

Leon's stomach churned as the man left the room. The second the door was closed, he started to jerk desperately against the restraints, rocking the chair violently on its legs until he was falling over and crashing onto his side, trying to slide the rope around his ankles down past the end of the chair-leg. He wasn't thinking, there wasn't a single coherent thought going through his head.

He wasn't crying, his eyes were just burning from the infection. And the sob that left him surely could have passed as a mere gag.

**[Tuesday, April 28, 02:17]**

Chris might have been able to lift a truck if he really put his mind to it – okay, probably not a _truck_ – but cardio? Big muscles didn't necessarily mean he could run across the world. Strength and endurance were two separate things, and while Chris had an impressive amount of both, he had put more effort into strength.

He also kind of hated running.

Unfortunately, the Tyrant had the advantage. Being a mutant left him tireless, left him trailing after Chris endlessly. The only thing keeping distance between him and the big guy were the trees and the smaller spaces Chris was able to fit through. Chris wasn't even a small guy. He was larger for a man, couldn't sneak around quietly like Leon could, and he certainly couldn't run for six hours without stumbling from cramps. He had tried his best to turn around and get back to the house, to get back to Leon, but every time he had gotten close, the Tyrant had been right there and ready for him.

He was being herded.

So he'd ended up at the radio tower almost three hours ago, ended up _trapped_ on the radio tower, because every time the Tyrant tried to climb the damn thing, he ended up falling through the old iron stairs. The original plan had been to lure the Tyrant to the top and then shove him off somehow, because this game of chase couldn't go on forever and Chris needed to put an end to it. But Chris had gotten lucky the monster couldn't follow after him.

Or perhaps like Leon had said earlier, lucky probably meant bad news bears.

Getting down the tower was going to be a hassle though. The tower was missing the last ten feet of stairs now. Getting back to the residence was also going to be a hassle, because Chris knew he couldn't stealthily dodge the Tyrant. And worse of all, now Chris wasn't even sure _where_ the Tyrant was. He wasn't sure what was worse; having the Tyrant at his heels, or having the giant hidden out in the trees, waiting for him.

The hub at the top of the tower had shielded Chris from the frozen wind. The glass let him see everything around himself so not even a bird could sneak up on him, but it was still cold as fuck up there. It was doable, though. He wouldn't freeze to death and he could feel his hands. It was like being stuck in the BSAA office, getting wrung out for one thing or another, and the air-conditioner was on too high, generally making everything worse. Sick? Maybe. Dead? Not likely.

The number one thing Chris hated in the world was being a sitting-duck. Down below, the Tyrant was circling the tower, waiting for Chris to come back down. Or at least, it had been the last time Chris had looked. But up in the hub, Chris had the map Leon had marked, was trying to figure out where this well was that Evelyn had mentioned, where this house was. While he was out here, he might as well try this angle. Every twenty-some minutes he tried Leon's comm, but he never got an answer.

_He's a solo-agent anyway. He knows how to handle himself. He'll be okay._

_But he's a solo-agent on suicide watch-_

“God.” Chris huffed, trying to figure out the map. He had circled two locations that looked less forested along the marsh to check out, realizing that Evelyn hadn't been very specific at all. The marsh was huge, the map wasn't very detailed, it was still dark, _and_ Chris was being stalked by a _Tyrant._ It was a disaster in Chris's books.

Chris huffed, his hand pressed to his ear. “Agent?” He asked, already knowing he wouldn't get an answer. _What the hell am I doing?_ It had been something like six hours since he had split from the house, six hours of being herded away like cattle, six hours of trying to shake the fucking Tyrant. He had only used the past couple of hours productively, searching for a location to head to, a location to search for clues or answers that could possibly help him, and then planning his route back to the house from the area near the marsh. It felt like this was the only productive thing he had done – if he hadn't been in the house, he never would have run into the kid. If he hadn't been in the house with the kid, he wouldn't have been hesitant to move. Leon never would have rushed in so brazenly, wouldn't have been caught, assuming Harold hadn't been lying when he had spoken through Leon's comm.

He had considered running to the car and fleeing up the road to shake the Tyrant before coming back, but that seemed like more of a waste of time than being productive. It _would_ be nice to properly warm up, but Leon was still in the house, and-

Leon could be dead for all he knew. Chris was trusting in the family's behavior thus far, their needs. He thought of the little girl's bedroom with _'Rose_ ' hanging from the door. He thought of Evelyn giving him that key. The family hadn't seemed intent to kill them, and judging from what Evelyn had said, it was possible they were taking people in, turning them into monsters. They had locked Leon out in the barn before deciding what to do with him, so Chris had hope. Leon was alive. He would be fine.

And on the plus side, it looked like the BOW rumors were really just the Bakers.

Chris clicked his tongue, attention snapping to the side. There hadn't been a noise, but something had caught his attention anyway. Every once in a while, the Tyrant would try again, would try to climb up and get in. It was never successful, but Chris was worried that sometime soon, the monster would burst through the door after sneaking up the stairs. Worried that the Tyrant would grab him and throw him from the window and Chris would plummet down to his death.

_I need to get out of here._

With an idea of where he was headed, Chris gathered up the map. He hadn't heard the Tyrant in quite some time, hadn't seen the Tyrant either when he had gone out to peer over the catwalk's railing just outside the windows. Chris doubted the monster had given up its chase, so Chris readied the shotgun he had brought, figuring he could use it to at least stun the bastard so he could getaway. He was surprised as he opened the door to the hub, surprised at how on edge he was _not_ hearing the Tyrant crunching snow down below.

Carefully, Chris crept out from the hub. He glanced around the platform, seeing clearly through the glass that the Tyrant wasn't up there with him. He glanced down the stairs too before trying to take them as quietly as he could, casting his eyes over the sides to make sure the Tyrant wasn't doing anything too crazy, like climbing up the sides of the structure. He didn't want to use his flashlight, didn't want the Tyrant to see him before he could see it, but damn, it was really dark.

He put on a brave face and headed down into the darkness. The stairs groaned beneath his weight, but he knew they would hold fast.

He made it to the bottom of the radio tower without incident, standing on the edge of the broken steps, his eyes scanning around the trees desperately. There was no sign of the Tyrant, no sound. It both unnerved and encouraged him to carry on. Cautiously, Chris glanced at the last step he was on. Ten feet was one hell of a drop. He'd fallen from a lot of places over his lifetime, but never willingly. He also had the sinking suspicion that the Tyrant was _right there_ , hiding under the steps, just biding its time and waiting for him. Chris didn't want to stick his head underneath to check it out, didn't want to be in easy access for the Tyrant to grab, didn't want to climb down the inside of the structure either just for the Tyrant to catch up to him. The snow beneath the stairs was disturbed from the Tyrant earlier; there was no way for Chris to know where the monster was lurking.

Chris took a deep breath. He got down to his hands and knees with his flashlight, knowing he was within reach should the monster be right there, but he needed to check, he needed to look before he climbed over the railing to scale in iron triangles supporting the structure. There was no way he could do it quickly, no way he could scale the wall before the Tyrant inevitably grabbed him.

The stairs suddenly groaned. Before Chris knew it he was falling, plummeting down to the ground below as the Tyrant yanked the stairs free from the edge of the structure. It had been hiding underneath, biding its time just as Chris as feared. He hit the snow hard, rolling through it from the momentum before scrambling up to his feet and taking off. He still had his flashlight, thank God. Pain twinged down his back, a muscle unhappy, possibly pulled, but he didn't have time to deal with it.

He oriented himself around the tower, discerning which way was back to the car and which way was towards his destination. He dashed forward in the cleared space around the radio tower, trying to ignore the massive cramp in his side from the pain and stay quiet, failing miserably, before the Tyrant stepped after him and he took off properly running in the direction he was pretty sure he needed to go.

The Tyrant was rushing after him, fast on its feet. Chris ducked between and caught his breath behind boulders with his flashlight off, but he couldn't shake the Tyrant. It was like it could smell him

But the chase didn't last as long as last time.

Catching his breath behind a boulder with his breath puffing in the air, Chris readied his shotgun. He glanced over his shoulder, trying to listen past the blood pounding in his ears, waiting for the Tyrant to be close but not _too_ close. He could hear the bastard's boots crunch in the snow, could hear the branches snapping as it moved closer, wood groaning as it pushed tree trunks slightly out of its way. Chris readied his shotgun, his breath caught, going quiet.

The Tyrant stepped closer, the leather of its gloves crackling as it reached out.

A branch suddenly snapped in the distance to Chris's right, catching his attention. Something purred just as the Tyrant stopped, the snow crunching off in the distance but… _differently._

Chris heard the Tyrant turn, the footsteps moving to the side. And then the Tyrant was suddenly running, running in the opposite direction of the branch that had snapped, of the new creature that had purred, and Chris heard something crash after the Tyrant. The problem was: they were running in the direction Chris needed to go.

Chris remained rooted to the rock he was behind, head tilted back and breath coming out unsteadily. He heard a fight break out in the distance, a nasty shrill snarl accompanied by a low rumble that could have been the Tyrant.

And then nothing.

Chris gave it a few minutes, maybe a healthy chunk of time, his ears straining to hear something, _anything._ There was no movement, no snarling or snapping, no indication that something was coming back for him. He emerged from his hiding place with his heart beating fast, creeping over with his flashlight to where the Tyrant had previously been. He recognized the Tyrant's footprints from earlier, but alongside them, there was another set. Animal tracks, both hooves and paw prints following along. Carefully, Chris followed after them. He pulled out his flashlight, the footprints becoming chaotic and messed up in the snow, overlapping each other. There was blood. A struggle. There were drag marks through the snow before Chris finally stumbled upon the body.

The Tyrant laid dead in the snow, his chest ripped open and hollowed out. It was lying with both of its eyes ruined now, a soft dusting of snow already covering its body.

Spooked, Chris slunk away from the scene, slunk through the trees as quietly as he could. Something had killed the Tyrant. Something bigger, something _worse._

Before he could really stop himself, Chris began to run.

Both of the locations he had picked on the map ended up being wrong. He wasn't being chased, hadn't heard anything since the incident, but he hurried regardless, crashing through the woods loudly because there was nothing he could really do to quiet himself.

He found the house and the well somewhere between the two locations circled on his map.

The house was small, merely a shack out in the woods and it hardly looked fit for someone to live in. It was more like a one-bedroom hut, smaller than the bachelor apartment Chris had once holed up in on a stakeout. Cautiously with his gun raised, Chris pushed the front door to the building open, the iron hinges creaking. The wood flaked off as the door swung in, the wood old and rotten. With his heart beating quickly but his hands still steady, Chris flicked on his flashlight, shining it into the house as he entered.

The house was abandoned and it looked like the forest was trying to take it back. The roof had caved in, so snow was piled into the living room, over the old rotten furniture that still remained. The kitchen was in the same room as the living room with nothing to separate it except countertops, the only door in the small hut going to the bedroom. In the bedroom, there was an attached bathroom. Ten minutes, and Chris had the house cleared, not even a rat scurrying along the floorboards.

He set to work in the bedroom first, pulling open all the drawers, checking the closet and searching through anything and everything he could find. He was careful with his flashlight, periodically checked the windows, half expected to see the Tyrant standing outside, peering in, half expecting something bigger and meaner and obviously a BOW staring inside.

Like a tornado, he whirled through the bedroom and then out into the living room, touching things and searching through things and even breaking the pictures to check their backs. He touched the walls and checked the floors, looking for puzzles, secret passages, _anything._ Desperately, he turned to the kitchen, ransacking it without being polite anymore, searching for something, _anything_ to validate why they were out here, why they might die. Something more than the dead Tyrant out in the woods.

He found nothing.

With his heart thrumming and frustration rising, Chris carefully snuck back out the front door after checking his surroundings again, searching for a giant figure between the trees, searching for anyone or anything. He hadn't updated Leon on his location yet, didn't want to risk Harold coming after him. He hadn't given up on Leon, but he needed to trust that Leon didn't need him.

_He's a solo-agent. He knows how to do shit like this better than me._

Maybe Chris just wanted someone to talk to.

Around back, Chris couldn't help but wonder about the Tyrant. He glanced out to the frozen marsh, worried like the monster that had killed it might explode up from beneath the frozen surface. The area was nice, peaceful. Secluded.

A good place to store secrets.

He found the well jutting up out of the ground, couldn't miss it even if he had tried. A heavy slab of stone covered it from the elements to protect the water within it. Chris brushed the snow off of it quickly, checking the stones out all around it, looking for symbols, looking for some sort of clue that this wasn't just an ordinary well.

There was nothing.

Carefully, after making sure there was nothing around or behind him, Chris shoved the stone slab off, burning off some of his frustrations, and flashed his light down into the well. The light reached the bottom. It wasn't that far of a drop, maybe twenty feet, but there was a ladder hidden inside along the wall so Chris didn't have to think too hard about how he would get down there.

Well, that was fucking suspicious.

Chris threw a leg over the edge of the well before standing on the ladder, testing how sturdy it was, getting ready to free-fall for the second time that night. It didn't give in to his weight, so he climbed down, flashlight in his mouth as he went. At the bottom of the well, he readied his Glock, thankful he hadn't fired off too many shots tonight as he spotted the door immediately. It hadn't been visible from above, but it was there. It was there, and it had the umbrella symbol painted on it, worn from the years, but still recognizable to someone who knew the symbol.

“Fuck.” Chris muttered.

The lock held fast when Chris tested the handle. From his pocket, he pulled out the key Evelyn had given him, carefully pressing it into the deadbolt before the lock on the handle.

The lock clicked.

The door popped open.


	6. If You're In A Crazy Situation, It's Probably For A Crazy Reason Too

**[Tuesday, April 28, 03:35]**

The door to the room opened gently.

Leon didn't move. He wasn't bitter, didn't care how pathetic he looked overturned in his chair on the floor, his blond hair fanning dramatically over his face. He'd gone through the seven stages of _something_ over the past two hours, had filtered through every single emotion before exhausting himself into complacency. It wasn't that big of a deal. He just had the Plaga and the Wolf-virus and Harold's fucking _sperm_ saturating his stomach.

No biggie.

_I'm not turning, I'm not turning-_

He couldn't feel his right hand and he wasn't sure anymore if it was because of the infection or because he had been laying on it this entire time. He had spent a good portion of time after his first anxiety attack trying to rationalize why it wasn't likely that he was dying, wasn't actually turning yet. The burning in his veins had started to die down before it had successfully contaminated his whole body – probably a bad sign, if he had to guess. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think he was, in a way, being _bred_ into an excellent mutation, the viruses coursing through his body cohabiting and turning him into something worse than average. His shoulder didn't hurt as much now, ached yes, but it was more tolerable than before. The blood wasn't flowing freely from his wounds anymore either. It almost felt like his body was healing faster than it should be.

Just his rotten luck. He wouldn't even die a rabid BOW that could easily be put down with Chris' experience, no, he would turn out to be the biggest problem STRATCOM had ever encountered. Part of him wanted to _make sure_ he was a hassle straight to the end, would go down in history just like how he had come into it, but another part of him just wanted to be put down _now._ Let him be an unfortunate story. A tragedy. Something people didn't really remember, something they didn't really mention.

Let him be like Ashley. Gone, leaving behind nothing but evidence that only conjured up more mysteries.

He didn't want to look at his visitor because he was terrified it was Harold back for more. Again. He had already come back once to saturate Leon a second time, the second time perhaps worse than the first. The man's leg had healed already, regeneration capabilities that Leon didn't want to think too hard about. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so helpless, so frustrated, so disgusted. It had been back with Krauser, hadn't it been? One of the last times Leon had seen Krauser, it had been in a hotel. They had started arguing almost immediately, but Krauser hadn't been patient with him at all. They had stained the white sheets.

He'd been thinking about Krauser a lot. Thinking about him the whole time he had been lying there. He didn't want to, tried not to, but he couldn't help but wonder _what it was_ that made men look twice at him. What had he done? Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't Herald just inject him like he'd been back in Spain? But even _then_ , Mendez had gotten a little handsy, and Leon had brushed it off, hadn't really thought too hard about it because he didn’t want to be paranoid about it and he was also in the middle of trying to blow the Chief’s brains out.

_Fucking eggs. Fucking breeding. Fucking men._

“Hey, kid? You good?”

The voice that spoke to him was gentle and female. It wasn't Harold or Lilly, and most unfortunately, it wasn’t Chris. Even helpless on the floor with semen crusted into his hair, he wished it had been Chris there in the doorway, back from wherever, telling Leon they had to go and they had to go _now._ Leon would tell him he was late, and then they would bust the hell out of here.

Leon just wanted to go home.

Winters didn't ease his mood any. If anything, the researcher made him even sourer. She had been the one to put the thought into Harold's head, had known what he would do to Leon with that idea. Or perhaps she had just been annoyed with Leon just like everyone who happened to come into contact with him.

“Well don't you look pathetic.”

Tiredly, Leon glanced up to Winters, her tone and expression much different now than it had been in front of the Bakers. She chuckled at the sight of him, the sound genuinely sad as she stepped closer. She was also wearing slippers, Leon noticed, as she stepped closer to him. Fuzzy house slippers like she lived down here.

She set her medical bag down beside him before she hoisted Leon's chair back upright for the second time that night. She let him sit for a moment before she knelt down in front of him much like she had done only hours ago. _Funny, she could have been a decent person._ She reached up, a hand on his jaw to turn it to the side, eyes scanning his neck that was surely blossoming black and blue, before those eyes turned to the bandages on his right arm.

“How are you feeling?” She asked as she started to unwind the dressings. She was careful and methodical, clearly cared about her work.

Leon didn't answer. He hated that he felt better, the fire dying in his veins, the intense pain in his chest gone. He figured it was because the infection was nearing completion, but he knew better. Everything had gotten better after _Harold_ , which meant the mutations were effectively binding within his cells just like Winters had said. Had it already spread? He had no idea, he had no idea how this worked.

“Better?” Winters asked, pulling the bandages free. Leon glanced at the wounds on his arm, both surprised and unsurprised to see that the wounds had already started to heal. “You look better. It's a little cold down here but you're freezing still.”

Leon didn't respond again, wondering if there was any point. Usually, he had something to say, a comeback for everything, but with the taste in his mouth and his mind rapidly flashing through scenario after scenario, he found he didn't have anything to say at all. His life just kept looping, didn't it? Get infected, get assaulted, get cured. He needed to save his breath. He needed to keep his shit together before he fell apart. If he was aware he was starting to turn bad, had a clear head, he could stubbornly hold the infection back. In Spain, Saddler had infected those who would easily succumb to the madness. Leon just hoped he wasn't one of those kinds of people.

_My heads a fucking mess though._

“Alright, Leon S. Kennedy.” Winters said sternly, wrapping his arm back up after nodding at it in approval. “I know what Harold did to you, but you need to stop playing the silent victim and talk to me. This isn't necessarily the best-case scenario, you know? There's still more to be done. Now's not the time.”

“How do you know my name?” Leon asked first, eyes trailing over to the woman fixing his arm. She patted his bandage, glancing up to him.

“I took a blood sample.” Winters said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You were in the database.”

Leon's eyes narrowed in suspicion because _no_ , he _wasn't in the database._ STRATCOM had made sure of that, which meant-

“You're Umbrella.” Leon accused, eyes still narrowed. His tone didn't raise, but it did reflect his conviction. “What the hell are you doing out here on a little farm playing with Werewolves? Did Umbrella leave you here, or is this just something personal?”

“First of all, I'm _not_ with Umbrella, I'm a researcher for the Connections. Or, I was, anyway. And second of all, I'm not out here playing with Werewolves.” Winters said. She smiled, sighing tiredly. “I've been held here against my will.”

Leon laughed, leaning his head back against the back of the chair as he cackled. “Against your will? You're being held here against your will?”

Winters clicked her tongue, her tone turning sharp. “You'll understand in a week. Two weeks. With your attitude, you might even understand after the next time Harold fucks you. He's relentless. He's the Alpha male, kid, and he makes sure everyone submits to him. You can't leave, just like I can't leave. The Bakers make sure of that.”

Leon cringed, head still turned to the ceiling. Quiet. Thinking. It was amazing how clear his thoughts were now that he wasn't shuddering in pain, wasn't obsessing over his impending transformation into a beast. It was also nice to have Winters here, he supposed, someone who knew a thing or two about what was going on with him. Maybe he still had time, to both get cured and get out. He'd done it before on a stricter deadline, hadn't he?

“I'll leave this place.” Leon said. He was damn sure. Whether he got out on his own, whether Chris came back for him, or whether Matilda did the job for him, Leon didn't plan on sticking around.

Winters chuckled, digging through her bag. “Honestly kid, I hope you do. The Bakers are kind of a few bricks shy from a load. I think you'd go a little crazy here. You already look a little rough.”

She stood up, a little flashlight in her hand. Her fingers were back on Leon's jaw as she flashed the light into his eyes, checking them out. He squinted, but he let her look without fussing.

“But seriously, how are you feeling?” She asked, turning off the blinding light as Leon blinked away the stars. She placed both hands to his face, still looking at his eyes like she expected to see something in them. He didn't have the energy to turn his head out of her hands, didn't have the confidence to lie to her about his condition either. Winters was the closest thing to help he could get right now.

“I'm tired.” Leon said. Both emotionally and physically, but he didn't elaborate. Didn't mention that he hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours now besides that cat-nap out in the barn, didn't mention that he had spent most of his night running around like a madman, being mauled and thrown off ledges and slammed down by angry men with shotguns. Didn't mention that most of these events had triggered something within him, something that had left him breathless and shaking, and acting on judgment he didn't trust was sound. Was he turning, or were the symptoms something more _human?_

“Understandable, but I meant more like… are you in pain? Does one of your toes suddenly feel like it's growing a second toe off it? Are you suddenly aware of your spinal cord and it feels like it's growing new discs?” Winters asked, her voice trailing off to sound amused. Leon knew she was serious though, knew the mutations were unpleasant and could start anywhere at any time in any way. He also knew she had experience with the Wolf-virus, knew what transitions to expect from him.

“My right side is numb.” He said, struggling to wiggle his fingers for emphasis. “Can't really move my arm still.”

“And it's been numb since?” Winters prompted, her hands leaving Leon's face, going to his arm. She pressed down on it, moving her hands over his, feeling his skin. She couldn't turn his hand palm up because of the restraints, but she did her best to check it out. He wondered if he could talk her into letting him go, could play helpless until someone unrestrained him.

“Since I was bit.” Leon said. He sighed, eyes closing.

Winters hummed, her hands kneading into Leon's injured arm. “That's normal. You should regain feeling once your injuries heal. It's cold and tingly?”

“Yeah.” Leon said, eyes still closed.

“It'll be okay.” Winters said. She turned to her bag, pulling out a syringe to take more blood. He hardly felt the prick. She took a deep breath and jumped right into it. “You won't transform right away, you know. The virus has an incubation period, and if it successfully mutated with the Plaga, it's hard to say what will happen later. The more viruses you have in your system, the longer it will take for them to sort themselves out. But once they sort themselves out, it'll be quick. But if you're not in pain right now, it's likely the Wolf-virus won out and already finished spreading. The Plagas are quite painful because they force you to transform as you go, but the Wolf-virus had been manufactured to be controllable. The usual problem is the take-over. Subjects usually complain about intense burning pain before they die, but if you're feeling better, I'd say you're doing good. I'm sorry. About Harold. But you'll be okay now until your first transformation.”

Leon glanced over to her, his eyes narrowed. She was staring back at him as the vial filled, her eyes wide and honest but knowing. He didn't trust her, didn't like any of this, but her words were a relief for right now even if they proved to be false.

“When will I transform?” Leon asked, dreading her response.

Winters smiled, and for the first time, Leon realized she didn't want to be here anymore than he did. Her smile died out, gaze turning to the side. “You are mostly in control of that.”

“But?” Leon asked, not quite believing it. He thought back to Harold- just kidding, he didn't want to think about Harold nor his transformations. It just hadn't seemed like Harold had intentionally transformed.

“You yourself can decide to transform. It's painful and you'll feel like you're dying, but it can also be triggered.” Winters said, pulling out the needle. She glanced up, her eyes soft. “Keep your stress levels in check. I'm sure you know all about the Plagas and how they take over the mind? Well, this is kind of the same thing, just a little more manageable. You can fight it, but eventually, it will be too much. Just try your best not to lose control.”

Leon huffed, eyes tearing away from her. He was screwed, wasn't he? He was already having a hard time keeping it together, let alone _knowing_ the virus in him could and would turn him into a monster, and neither of them even knew _how_.

“And just remember that if you leave here, you'll only put other people in harm's way. And then the very company you work for will send someone out for _you.”_ Winters said, her tone stern, like Leon hadn't already considered this outcome. “Make sure you remember that. It's not my job to stop you, but I can at least warn you that Harold is very thorough in keeping his operation under wraps. If you stay, you'll be kept. If you try and escape, you'll just make it worse for yourself.”

Leon chuckled humorlessly. “I think I can handle it.”

“Maybe.” Winters agreed. “But Harold's coming back for you soon. He will do his best to trigger the transformation. I can only lie to him about your good condition for so long. He'll be back, Leon and I fear you won't like what he chooses to do to you to make the transformation happen.”

Leon chuckled, eyes closing. Saddler had known how to keep his operation under wraps too, and little did Winters know, Leon had a hard time staying out of trouble, even if he was chained down and immobile. Trouble would still find him. It always did.

“Why are the Bakers doing this?” Leon asked, because at the end of the day, that was the real question that started all of this. And if Winters was willing to tell him, he wouldn't complain. The more he knew, the better decisions he could make.

Winters sighed, crossing her arms. “I… it's partially my fault, which is why they kept me here. I tried to quit my job, you know? My mother passed away and my little sister Mia was still young. I was going to take her in, but my boss convinced me to do one last job first. So we sent her to my grandparents and I came here. And then I just… never got to leave. I've honestly given up too.”

 _Rough._ Leon thought. It was like the opposite of his first awful day on the job.

“I was here for Evelyn.” Winters said, her voice stern. “I assume you're here for Evelyn too. You shouldn't hurt her, she's done nothing wrong.”

“I'm not here for her, actually.” Leon admitted. He glanced to the researcher, confused. Was Evelyn the girl Chris had mentioned? Why had Winters come here for her?

“Oh?” Winters asked. She smiled then, looking a little devious. “Well then maybe I shouldn't tell you.”

Leon glared, eyes narrowed. “I might be a dead man, so you might as well tell me. I was sent here to investigate the rumored BOW in the forest. And instead of a BOW, I unfortunately found the Bakers.”

Winters laughed at that. “Wow, that brings me back. Looks like you're just as unfortunate as I was. There is no BOW in the forest, Leon. There never has been. And if there is, it's pretty damn quiet and keeps to itself. There's an underground lab out here, you know? We're actually in the residential hallway that connects to the lab. But Umbrella never finished building it, and last I heard, TRICELL doesn't even know it exists. There was nothing manufactured down there, so the Bakers are sitting on the best secret in the world.”

“Then what about the Tyrant?” Leon asked. “You can't tell me they didn't manufacture anything down there.”

“Ah, Kyle.” Winters said sadly. She sighed. “Glenn Baker, Harold's father, rest that bastard's soul, was the first researcher assigned to this lab. He was overseeing the construction of it. He and his wife lived in this house before moving out to their little lake cabin to give his son more space, or so they said. It's not even a lake, it's a marsh. Anyway, they didn't finish building the lab, but they were close enough that they started to bring supplies in. Well, it's as simple as this. One day, old Glenn Baker left the door unlocked to the secret entrance in the well, and one day little Kyle fell down. He went in, touched something he shouldn't have, and then the next thing the family knew, he was infected. Glenn did what he thought was right.”

“He turned him into a Tyrant.” Leon stated. He clicked his tongue, eyes closed. _How the hell does that work? I thought kids couldn't survive the infections?_

“It was the only thing they could do.” Winters said. “Glenn had the technology and the viruses, and knew that a BOW would turn feral and attract too much attention, so they decided to go that route. That was back in the late-90's. Glenn copied the formula from the T-00 because that Tyrant had also been made from an adult human host.”

If the shock was clear on Leon's face. He knew that Tyrant, and if a human host had been involved it was possible the Tyrant retained some of its latent personality. Its needs _._

“It worked out in the end. Kyle was ordered not to hurt anyone and to protect everyone deemed family, and he still lives by those orders. He's never turned bad.” Winters said. “But one day, Harold will finally snap and that will be it. Kyle will go bad simply because Harold does.”

Leon's head was spinning. How did shit like this happen?

“And the wolves in the barn?” Leon asked, because no, there was no way _this_ was the only involvement Umbrella had.

“Ah, that was my fault. The wolves bring me back to Evelyn.” Winters said. She patted Leon's arm, more to comfort herself rather than him. “You see, I heard about Evelyn and that's why I came here. The Bakers lost a daughter back in the day. Her name had been Annabelle, and she had been a few years younger than Kyle. One day Annabelle just… disappeared. That was why Kyle had been out in the woods. He said Annabelle had disappeared while playing by the well, and that was why he kept going back. The Bakers lost both of their children within the same week. Annabelle was never found.”

“Shitty.” Leon said. He wasn’t moved. He hated the idea of children getting caught up in this mess, yes, but didn't care much for the Baker's pain. He also couldn't really see where this story was going. “And Evelyn?”

“I'll get to that.” Winters said. “So the Bakers were in mourning. Naturally. When one day they just… stumbled upon Evelyn.”

“They just found a kid?” Leon asked, skeptical.

“Yeah. Lilly told me the story once, but unfortunately, she's not a very descriptive lady. Very straight to the point.” Winters said. “I'm still not sure to this day where Evelyn came from, I have a lot of theories, but the Bakers took her in as their own. Just... Evelyn is a little special.”

“Oh?” Leon asked. Winters' voice was lulling him, his eyes growing heavy. He almost didn't care to hear the story, but he knew it was important. He also needed to sleep, wished he hadn't spent the past couple of hours creatively theorizing how this night could get any worse.

“I derived the Wolf-virus from Evelyn's blood.” Winters said. She sounded excited despite the fact that she had just admitted to being the source of the virus. “Evelyn is a natural-born Lycanthrope. I believe she came from the woods. I believe there are more of her kind out there.”

Leon blinked, not following. “What?”

“She's a Werewolf. She can turn into a wolf on command. Painlessly, smoothly, beautifully.” Winters said, still sounding excited. “She accidentally bit her nanny as a toddler, and the nanny started to turn. The nanny knew what she was becoming, and she made a big commotion before finally killing herself. She didn't want to turn into a beast. We caught wind of the suspicious death, so the Connections sent me out to investigate. We wanted Evelyn so we could develop our own Lycanthrope drug.”

“You were sent out here to abduct a child?” Leon asked, making sure the judgment in his tone was apparent.

Winters shrugged, smile fading. “It didn't work, now did it? Harold knew someone would come for her. Harold expected this. He knew about the lab under his grandfather's property. Consider him paranoid. Anyway, the second I got here I was caught. And the second I got here, there was already a problem. Lilly had given birth to another baby, little Rose. She wasn't even six months yet, but Evelyn had scratched her by accident. Naturally, the Bakers assumed Rose would die, so they were panicking. After I was identified as a researcher, I was taken down to the lab to concoct something to save Rose. Using Evelyn's blood and another virus I was already familiar with, I made something.”

“You made the Wolf-Virus.” Leon muttered.

“No.” Winters said. “What I made that day is the only reason why other people can survive the infection now. The virus kills. I didn't promise it would work, but Rose didn't die. She was feverish and sick until the day of her first transformation.” Winters said, pausing for dramatic effect. “But she never changed back.”

“Huh?” Leon chuckled, confused. “What?”

“She remained a wolf.” Winters said. She was smiling, amused. “I mean, it was better than dead? Lilly was devastated, but they kept Rose as their 'family puppy'. Except Rose is almost seven now and now she's about five foot at the shoulder, but she's still their little baby.”

Leon thought back to his furry neighbor, eyes wide. Was that even a good outcome?

“But the problem was, when Rose was really little, she bit the neighbor's kid because one day he grabbed her tail.” Winters said. “And you can see where this is going. Harold abducted the neighbor's kid, I gave him the drug. _Bam!_ Suddenly the Bakers have two Werewolves that are permanently wolves. And I bet you can guess how this carries on. The neighbor's kid had scratched his father. His father had scratched his wife, so on and so forth. I didn't vaccinate the neighbor's kid, partially because I didn't have the ingredients that day to make more of the drug. He died from the virus. The virus kills. There have been a few instances of infection we haven't caught, and they all died too.”

“God.” Leon said, eyebrows narrowed. “So the one I killed?”

“That was one of Evelyn's friends at school.” Winters said. “Anna-Mae came over and wandered out into the barn. She wasn't scared, but she was scratched. Evelyn cried for a week, Leon. The girl is pure. She is innocent.”

Leon clicked his tongue. “So your drug has done nothing but save the neighbor's lives? And then what? Harold locks them up in the barn? Keeps them as pets.”

Winters chuckled. “Well. What else is he supposed to do with them? Let them run loose and infect the whole community? Kyle made sure they stayed put. Kyle took them out into the woods on rotation to hunt and get exercise like a permanent dog-walker. There has never been a problem until recently. The problem is that they go bad, Leon. You know first hand that the viruses, regardless of what they're meant to do, go bad. Everyone is going bad except Rose, and I think it's because Evelyn was the one to scratch her. It took a couple of years, but slowly, every single wolf under that roof is turning into something else and I think it's because of my vaccination. Evelyn hasn't scratched a single person since then, but sometimes I lay awake all night and wonder if Rose could have survived on her own. Every single person who has died from this has died from BOW related complications.”

Leon had a headache. This was a mess, this was all because Umbrella showed up out of nowhere, and now everything was just a giant mess. “Which one is Rose?”

“She's the cutest, has the nicest fur. You can tell the Bakers' play favorites.” Winters said, smiling fondly. “She's a little smaller than most of them, but not the runt. Anyway. There you have it. The Baker-history in a nutshell.”

“Jesus.” Leon said, headache throbbing. “And Harold? He doesn't look like them at all?”

“Oh. Right.” Winters said. “I'm locked down here, so I only have access to the lab when Harold allows me. A few years ago, he had the same idea the Connections had, just he wanted to become like Evelyn. But he didn't want to be permanently stuck as a wolf.”

Leon could see where this was going. He sighed, narrowing his eyes at Winters. “So you made the Wolf-virus.”

“So I made the Wolf-virus.” Winters admitted. “And now, here were are.”

 _God._ Leon sighed, eyes closing. “What a lovely story.”

“I feel like you're not one to judge.” Winters said. She put away all of her stuff, hoisting her bag up onto her shoulder. “I regret it. I regret ever coming here, but I'm also glad. Because if not me, then it would have been someone else, and maybe they would have made something worse.”

“I suppose.” Leon said, his eyes tired on Winters.

Winters stared back at him, the silence settling between them. Winters sighed. “I told you all of this because I'm not confident you'll live. But from all the commotion I've been hearing up in the yard, you sound like trouble. So if it just so happens that only one of us ends up escaping, I'd rather have someone else _know.”_

Leon didn't respond, eyes locked on Winters as she turned towards the door. Leon knowing what was happening here just meant he had more to report at the end of the day. At least now he knew that the Bakers were infected. If he told Chris, maybe Chris wouldn’t hesitate next time. _I'll get out of here and I will kill every single BOW on this property._

Perhaps the rumored BOW were the Werewolves going sour.

“Harold will be back soon.” Winters said. She didn't turn to look at Leon. “He's tolerable when you don't fight him. It's faster, too.”

 _She knows from experience._ Leon didn't respond. Simply watched Winters go, locking the door behind her. The impending doom didn't settle over him like he had expected, but his mind didn't completely blank. He thought about it,

And half an hour later, when Harold finally showed up, grinning and showing off his gross teeth, Leon considered complacency. His ears were ringing, vision already blurry, dread coursing through him. Harold finally took Matilda from her holster, carelessly tossed her back onto the dresser out of reach.

_Relax, relax, I'm not turning._

But the second Harold started to undo Leon's cuffs with the intent to tie him back down on the bed, Leon's consideration to be complacent blew out the window. He went down fighting even if it was terribly one-sided, and that was all he could do.


	7. The Good News Is, When Everything Is Going Extra Wrong, It's All Almost Over. Hopefully

**[Tuesday, April 28, 03:35]**

Underneath the well was, as expected, a lab.

“Are you fucking serious.” Chris hated it as he carefully crept through the underground facility. He hated every second of it down there. The lights didn't work because there was no power, the clean, _too clean_ smell of old antiseptic making his nose itch. He was going to sneeze at some point, he knew it, he just dreaded what he might wake up if he did. The space was wide and open and dark, so his sneeze would echo, travel down the halls, and through all the available rooms. He hated labs, hated that it was warmer down there than outside and that he would rather be here than out there. Somehow, he felt safer in the lab. This was familiar enemy territory.

This had Umbrella written all over it. This looked like a bigger job than what just two agents on modified-duty should take on, not that Chris was complaining. It wasn't that he wanted the excitement, it was that he wanted to take out anything Umbrella related and he was glad he was here and not someone else.

He hadn't found much of anything, nothing besides an old, still pristine, invoice dated from the late '90s, indicating that the lab was being run by a sub-division of Umbrella. Chris folded the paper and shoved it into one of his many pockets for evidence.

Half the area was unfinished. It looked like the lab had never been completed, with blue tarps still hanging from the ceiling and some of the walls bare and unfinished. The floor lacked that glossy look he was used to. Incomplete.

Chris stalked past the lab equipment with both his flashlight and Glock raised, his eyes and ears peeled for anything that was moving, anything that was sneaking up behind him. He forgot how tired he was at this point, the threat of Zombies or BOW's leaving him wide awake. He had cleared multiple rooms – had gotten lost and somehow ended up walking in a circle at one point – but nothing seemed to be alive or even present. No zombies. No sign that anything had even used the lab, to be honest. It was lacking some of the finer details of the other labs, lacking things like basic tools and notes strewn all over the place. There weren't even pictures hanging from the walls, not a single decoration or fake palm tree to be seen.

_Did they abandon the lab halfway? Or did they run out of money?_

There was a fish.

Standing in an office where he had assumed he might find some keys to open the locked doors, Chris stared at the massive fish-tank mounted into the wall behind the desk. The water was murky and frozen, looked like marsh water if Chris wanted to be specific, but there was a catfish frozen in the middle of the tank. There were a few plants in there too and through the fog of frozen water, there were perhaps a couple of smaller fish in the back. Chris wasn't sure if the tank was _supposed_ to be frozen, but the plaque mounted beside the tank indicated that the catfish had been the focal point. It had been caught infected with trace amounts of, at the time, the newly created G-virus. Trace amounts of the G-virus apparently did not cause a transformation, didn't seem to impact the host at all besides an early death from organ failure, and the plaque went on to scientifically break down the wee parts-per-million of the virus found. It looked like a very small number. Chris wasn't a science guy, but even he knew that 'trace amounts' sounded like more G-virus than what was actually present in the marsh, like if a single dose had fallen into the ocean.

 _Oh shit? Is the marsh contaminated?_ That was still bad, wasn't it?

There was a binder on the desk neatly labeled ' _Sammy'_ , and when Chris opened it, he noticed that there was only a thin layer of dust lying atop it. These fucking labs were so airtight, dust didn't even settle. If only Chris had this much money, maybe he could just buy himself and all his future partners better comms.

Inside the binder, there were several pages meant to keep records on the fish in the tank – Sammy the catfish, cute – but only the first few pages were filled out, about four months worth of data. It looked like they were trying to keep track of the G-virus levels in the marsh. The good news was that the numbers for the water seemed to slightly decrease, especially during the winter month, but the levels of G-virus in the fish slightly increased over time. The changes in numbers were slight – didn't look like it would be a problem even if the last page outlined a possible solution to eradicate the virus from the marsh. Chris wondered if they had made the solution, or if the solution had turned out to be worse, or if an equivalent exchange was applicable, meaning eventually the virus itself would disappear and die out.

Chris didn't know what it fucking meant. It looked like they had been using the lab for small things before it was finished, and had stupidly contaminated the water nearby somehow. But he didn't know for sure, so he took out the pages that had been filled with data and folded them up too. He shoved them into the same pocket as the rest of the papers he had acquired, before digging through the desk and finding a nice, fat, keyring. Don't drink the well water. Don't drink the marsh water.

Trace amounts wouldn't turn a kid into a Tyrant, Chris at least knew that. The trace amounts weren't the problem here.

He was dead tired, but he found a map still in perfect condition in the break room, and was both horrified and glad to see there were at least two confirmed exits. He would have preferred more. The first exit was back up through the well. The second exit was tucked away in the back maintenance room, a long-ass hallway that Chris really hoped actually popped back up above ground. He really hoped they had finished the hallway, really hoped it wasn't just a dead-end and a huge waste of time.

God, he hated being underground.

In the back maintenance room, after a grueling puzzle that left Chris' exhausted brain frazzled, he used another key he had obtained to open the door to the emergency exit. The door buzzed loudly when it opened, Chris instantly scanning the hallway with his gun and flashlight raised. He whipped both devices back and forth like a swarm of Zombies were about to spill out from the hall and try to eat him alive. In all honesty, he was surprised that _hadn't_ happened.

He spun around anyway as he backed into the dark hallway, making a quick sweep of his surroundings, before turning back the way he was headed and trudging down the hall. He checked and reloaded all of his guns even though he'd only fired his Glock, made sure they were at max capacity, before walking briskly down the hallway. He was just glad he hadn't even finished the first clip in his Glock. He was still fully loaded, and ready to go.

And he was _ready_ to go.

He hurried down the hall, hoping to make up for lost time, hoping he wouldn't pop up on the other side of Canada and further away from Leon than he had started. His internal compass wasn't _that_ backwards, so he was pretty sure he was at least headed in the right direction.

After what felt like hours, at least _one_ hour, after pausing every now and again to check over his shoulder, wondering if he was just making himself paranoid every time he thought he heard a double set of footsteps behind him, Chris' flashlight lit up a door at the end of the dark hall.

“Finally.” Chris muttered as he approached it. He was starting to feel claustrophobic. He placed his hand on the handle, momentarily dreading that it would be locked. The handle didn't turn when he tested it, and once again, he pulled out Evelyn's key, dreading that this would finally be the key that wouldn't work. He would have to turn back, would have to trek through the snow across the marsh where there was _something else_ skittering through the woods and-

Chris suddenly remembered something. Something super basic he had learned in middle school, something about parts-per-million building up through the food chain. He hadn't cared much about biology, he had just excelled in the math, remembered doing good during that topic. If the virus was in the water, then it was in the plants. And if the fish ate the plants, then it was in the fish. And if something ate the fish and the plants _and_ drank the water-

He would just file this thought for later. He had a job to do.

He released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the lock popped, the door swinging open. _Imagine if I had to walk all the way back just to get out._

There was light.

Lantern-style lights were spaced far enough apart that the hallway wasn't too bright, but there was dim orange light none-the-less to guide his way. Chris tucked his flashlight away before raising his Glock again, carefully but quickly shuffling down the hall to the bend in the road. At the ninety-degree corner, Chris threw his back against the wall before checking around the corner. The coast was clear. He slunk out from his hiding place, gun lowered so he could move faster, his eyes checking out the walls and the ceiling as he went. The last thing he wanted to see in this place were Lickers or anything of that kind, and if there were security cameras, he certainly wanted to know about them. If someone was potentially watching him, he didn't want to waste time trying to be stealthy.

At the next corner, the hallway suddenly narrowed through a dark door frame that lacked a door. The lights were in the ceiling now, brighter white than the previous yellows, the short hallway ending in a set of stairs. There were six doors, three on either side, reminding Chris of the basement. _I must be close to the end._

He quickly made a plan. He would check each door, take what he could that was worth taking, and then he would go up and find Leon and they would get the situation under control. _In a perfect world..._

A sound echoed down the hallway. It was dull, a hollow thud that echoed shrilly for a second before the dull, hollow thud sounded again. It sounded like metal repeatedly hitting concrete. Chris raised his gun again, slinking towards the left wall. He crept closer, checking each open door as he went, making sure there was nothing and no one in there to jump him from behind after he had passed by. At the base of the stairs, Chris hated that there were two more hallways just as long as the one he had come down, the repetitive sound coming from his right.

Chris glanced upstairs. The staircase was long, but it wasn't winding. There was a well-lit door at the top, possibly the way out. It seemed like the map had cut off at the last locked door, because Chris didn't remember there being a bend in the road. He was going in blind, but it didn't unnerve him as much as he thought it would.

Chris turned to the right, slinking down the hallway, the noise became louder, a little quicker, a little angrier. A little more familiar. Chris swallowed thickly, hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

 _God, this is a mess._ Chris slunk further down the hall, the noise becoming louder, until finally, he was practically in the room. The door was closed. Chris threw his back against the wall beside the entrance, reaching for the handle. He gently tried to twist it before realizing it was locked. There was a deadlock on the outside, but Chris waited to turn it, worried about what was _inside_ the room. He wondered if he had a key for the handle, wondered why the handle didn't also have a turn-lock. He took a breath, waiting, listening, when the metal finally stopped clanging against the wall inside. There was a groan, a dull thud.

Chris waited, wondered if he should call out to whoever was inside. He had been through Hell and back; he could discern human movement from monsters. He could identify a man's footsteps when he heard them. Just hopefully this person wasn't infected, and wasn't employed in the lab or something.

From inside the room, he heard a familiar voice, low and annoyed. “Fucker.”

“Kennedy?” Chris hadn't liked the way his voice sounded in the empty hallway, the worried tone being eaten by the concrete walls. He couldn't tell if it was just the door, but Leon sounded further away than he probably was, sounded smaller.

Chris swallowed thickly, his gun still raised at the door, ready. He took another step closer, his boot squeaking quietly, almost silent, but it sounded like a hand grenade going off, sounded like he was about to alert every single monster within a fifty-mile radius to his and Leon's presence. Silently, Chris prayed to whatever God had managed to keep him alive for so long that Leon wasn't bleeding out on the other side of the door, wasn’t dying. That dark fear clutched him, tendrils snapping gently around his heart and squeezing teasingly, the fear that Leon would just be _another partner lost._ He twisted the deadlock and tried the handle again.

“Kennedy? Are you-”

“Chris?” Leon aggressively tried to turn the door handle, but his side must have been locked too. “Holy shit, is that you?”

“Yeah, am I glad to hear you!” Chris said. He chuckled. How long had it been since they had gotten separated? He glanced around again before moving in front of the door. He holstered his Glock and rolled his shoulder, intending to bust the door down. “I'm gonna-”

Leon beat him to it, Chris only having a moment to jump out of the way. With one single kick, the _fury_ that Leon must have put behind it, the handle splintered from the door, leaving the lock in the handle useless. Leon kicked the door a second time, the door-busting from the wall and violently swinging open, smashing against the hallway wall. Leon sighed, sinking into the door frame, his face paler than Chris liked. He was covered in blood, his usually pristine hair matted and stuck to his forehead with blood, sludge, and white. His black shirt stuck to his skin, arms painted red. He didn't look Chris' way as he leaned against the wall, his other hand pressed to his side. His jaw and neck were coloured in purples and blacks, the white bandages on his forearms torn and soaked through. He had soft cuffs around his wrists, the chain-link ends dangling from both of them.

Chris's blood ran cold.

“We have to go.” Leon suddenly stumbled out of the room, eyes narrowed in pain and unfocused as he drifted into the hallway like a ghost. He looked hardly put together as he slunk from the room, and when Chris glanced in he saw the cot. The bed frame was broken, the bottom popped off just enough that Leon must have been able to escape being bound. How long had he been banging the frame against the wall?

Chris stepped closer to the doorway, not liking how much blood was on the bed, on the floor, black sludge that didn't look natural smeared over the walls, sheets, and ground.

“Leon-” Chris turned Leon's way, a hand reaching for Leon's shoulder. He didn't manage to make contact.

“I said we have to _fucking go!_ ” Leon suddenly whirled on him like a zombie smelling fresh blood, his eyes flashing red for a second, his lips pulling back to show off teeth. His split lip cracked back open, fresh blood sliding down his chin. Chris raised his gun again on instinct, raising his gun so that the muzzle was level with Leon's heart as the man spun too fast, too wildly, red eyes – _fuck, is he infected? –_ catching Chris by the lapels of his jacket and snarling into his face. Leon froze, eyes abruptly blue again like a sunny day's sky, gaze turned down to the gun at his chest before flickering up to his fingers snagged in Chris' jacket.

“Chris-”

Leon's voice was cut off, the silence deafening. His hands snapped open as he stepped back, eyes wide and raw in emotion. Chris wanted to reach out, but he only lowered his gun. Leon didn't look like he was all there, a little lost in his head maybe, very-much disoriented.

“Leon?” Chris asked, moving closer again but not touching this time. “We need to go. Are you... Can you? Hey? You good?”

Leon chuckled, an odd sound that didn't sound good in the slightest. He didn't look up at Chris, still staring at Chris' jacket. “Oh yeah, I'm great.”

“Are you injured?” Chris asked, and the wet laugh that left Leon sounded more like a sob.

“I'm great. Great. I said I'm great.” Leon said, sounding not great at all. “Let's just get the fuck out of here.”

 _That_ wasn't reassuring, but Chris wouldn't argue. They needed to take care of the Bakers _now_. He glanced Leon over before deciding not to yell at him. Claire had always told him that arguing was the worst thing he could do when someone obviously wasn't quite right.

Chris did his best. “Now's a bad time to lose your shit, Leon. Do you know the way out?”

Leon glanced up with dull eyes, finally looked at his surroundings, taking a moment to just observe where he was. Chris didn't like that one bit, because that meant Leon had no idea where he was or how he had gotten here, which meant he didn't know how to get out. Worst-case scenario, they would have to go back through the lab, which actually would put them closer to the car. _Maybe that's not a bad idea._ The satellite phone was in the car still along with Leon's cell; maybe they could get ahold of someone, get some backup down here. Chris knew Leon had a handler, maybe even he could call in for help.

_And give the Bakers a twelve-hour head start? Leon won't make the call. He'll just take care of the problem himself._

Chris hated that it was just the two of them, and not two proper squads. The frustration was instantly forgotten as Chris' eyes caught on Leon's usually silky hair. Leon turned away from him to orient himself, Chris' eyes caught on the blood and the crusted clumps of black and white-

 _Oh shit._ While Leon was staggering away from the wall, his eyes locked on the stairs, Chris' attention wandered to Leon's bruised neck. To the cuffs around his wrists, to the lack of jacket and missing belt, pants hanging dangerously against boney hips. There were tears in his clothes, tears in his arms, defensive wounds, and generally he didn't look _good._

Chris swallowed, but didn't ask. They didn't have _time._

“I was thinking about the stairs too.” Chris said, keeping his voice low _just in case_. Leon had already made a horrendous amount of noise, but it didn't seem like it had attracted anything. Chris didn't know at this point if there were hostiles downstairs, had no idea what to expect. There could be someone else down here for all he knew, could be Zombies too.

“Found out a bunch of stuff. This has Umbrella written all over it.” Chris said, glancing over his shoulder.

“No shit.” Leon said. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. “We need to get out.”

“I got that.” Chris said, taking the lead. He pulled his Glock back out, raising it ahead of him as he started to move. “At my back, Kennedy. I don't want you walking headfirst into danger looking the way you do. You got ammo?”

Behind him, Leon sighed. Chris heard him check his mag, heard Leon sigh again, heavier this time. “I'm almost out. I didn't bring extras because I didn't realize I was going to be dragged through the woods.”

Chris paused at the base of the stairs, fishing through his pockets for the ammo that had been weighing him down this entire night. He pulled out a full clip, flipping his hand Leon's way. He made eye contact, watching as Leon reached for the clip, wrapping his fingers around it. The knuckles on his right hand were all busted, black and blue and cracked like he had gotten in a good punch.

Chris didn't let go of the clip, eyes flickering from Leon's hand back up to his face. “Hey. Are you sure you're good?”

“Does it matter?” Leon asked. He put on a damn good brave face, his tone more snarky than earlier. Chris suddenly remembered his eyes, how they had flashed red. “We need to leave.”

“And we will leave, but we need to leave in one piece.” Chris warned. “Are you capable of going into combat right now?”

“Do I have a choice?” Leon asked, his tone changing. It was lower, lacking the sass. A little more dangerous than it had been before. His eyes also darkened.

“No.” Chris agreed, because Leon _had_ to come with him and chances were, they would _have_ to fight their way free. “But you can shoulder some of the weight onto me, you know, Mr. solo-agent Kennedy. If you're indisposed, I can make sure to cover for you. I'll know to watch out for you.”

“I'm not _indisposed_.” Leon snapped. This wasn't the same Leon Chris had come in here with. He jerked the clip from Chris's hand, shoving it into his own pocket. “I'm fine, and I will be fine until we get the fuck out of here. I have no choice, Mr. used-to-partners Redfield.”

Chris clicked his tongue. “Don't snap at me, it's a legitimate concern. If you're going down, you need to let me know in advance. If you don't think you can hold your own right now, which is totally fucking fine, by the way, you need to let me know so I can make informed decisions. This is about informed decisions, Kennedy, not your ego. We both need to get out of here alive, and if you keep your mouth shut, you might get us both killed.”

Leon didn't respond, his eyes widening at the last part. The muddy darkness in his eyes cleared away quickly at that, and after a second, his eyes were suddenly shiny. He snapped his head away, refused to look. That last comment had hit him harder than Chris expected, which made Chris suddenly very uncomfortable. _What isn't he telling me?_

“Just go check the door.” Leon snapped.

“No.” Chris said automatically. He stepped closer to Leon, the sudden change in attitude jarring. “What the fuck was that? Look at me.”

“No.” Leon snapped as he tried to shoulder past Chris to the stairs. “We need to leave. This isn't the time or the place.”

Chris caught his arm, stopping him as he shoved himself past. “Agent, you need to look me in the eye and tell me you're not a liability right now.”

“I'm a solo-agent.” Leon snapped, turning his gaze back to Chris. His eyes were wet. “I'm _not_ a liability. You get yourself out, and I will be there. We'd be better off going separate ways and _this_ is an informed decision. Outside that door, we need to split up.”

Leon wasn't telling him something, and he wasn’t telling him something really damn important. Was it the virus? The red eyes, that was the Plaga, wasn't it? Chris had read the file, but that felt like years ago already. Or was it the Wolf-virus? _Is he infected?_

“You _look_ like a liability and no, we're not splitting up again. When we split up, everything went immediately to shit.” Chris pressed. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“You need to _let me go._ ” Leon snapped, eyes narrowed as he jerked his arm.

Chris only held him tighter, his short-temper getting the better of him. “You better listen to me, Agent Kennedy. If we don't get some honestly between us right now, you might not even _want_ to go back to STRATCOM. You need to report your status. _Now._ ”

“No.” Leon said, voice still lowered, the word simple and defiant on his tongue. It was really aggravating.

“Are you infected with something? Is that it?” Chris asked, because that was what this was about, wasn't it? If Leon was infected, maybe he was worried about becoming a BOW at the worst possible moment. Leon stilled at that, eyes narrowing stubbornly. He ripped his arm from Chris' grip, storming silently past him and up the stairs. He was infected. He was infected, and Chris had no idea with what.

“I just need to _know_.” Chris groaned, chasing after him. “Leon!”

Leon didn't stop, didn't even look over his shoulder as Chris ran to catch up to him.

“Fuck-” Chris rushed the last few steps before grabbing Leon by his elbow again. “Listen to me-”

“Get the fuck off me.”

“I want to trust you.” Chris snapped. “I've lost most of my teams, Leon. Every time I go into the field, I lose someone, if not everyone. And right now, you're the only person I can lose. So there isn't a lot going for me, do you understand?”

“And I don't lose anyone because I'm a solo-agent, so you don't have to worry about me like that.” Leon swallowed thickly, eyes still narrowed. “What do you want from me?”

“We have no idea what is past that door. We have no idea what the Wolf-virus is. When we go out there, you need to have a clear head.” Chris snapped. “And I would like to know in advance if you're a danger to _me_.”

Leon inhaled, eyes still stubbornly locked on Chris. He glanced away again, teeth grit. Their standstill felt like it lasted forever, but Leon finally jerked his arm free and Chris let him go, hands curled at his sides. Leon relaxed, looked more annoyed and resigned than anything else. Chris had a really damn good point, and they both knew it.

“Chris, I-”

A howl cackled from behind them, a door suddenly bursting from its frame. A beast wandered out, a black creature larger than the wolves outside with rippling muscles and a giant eye gazing straight at them from the creature's shoulder. Its face was elongated, teeth pulled back into a snarl, blond hair dancing around as it slowly stalked down the hallway on all fours, its right fore-paw significantly thicker than the left. It had the remnants of a robe on – Lilly's.

“You're not allowed to leave. Where are you going?” The beast demanded in a crackling growl, eyes set on Leon.

“Leon-”

Leon's shot rang before Chris could even move and when Lilly lunged for the both of them on the stairs, she lunged screaming for Leon. Chris raised his gun as he backed up, aim changing dramatically when another woman came out from a different room, a woman in a white lab coat with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had a shotgun, it had probably been Lilly's, and she aimed it at the beast that was too close to Leon for comfort.

She fired.

Chris dodged at the last moment, felt the shrapnel ricochet off his safety vest. The woman had wildly missed to the point Chris wasn't convinced she _hadn't_ been aiming for him.

“Winters!” Leon yelled, dodging Lilly's attack. He dropped and rolled with grace that didn't belong to an injured man, Matilda raised and firing straight into the beast's largest eye from beneath. He rolled out of the way after, safely putting distance between him and Lilly, putting the monster between him and Chris.

“Are you serious?” Chris complained, dodging to the side as Lilly suddenly screamed in pain and reared-back from Leon, her shoulders bulging against her robe, bubbling as she mutated into an even larger beast, her face starting to stretch and elongate even further. Her ears tapered off into stiff points, hair becoming firm as she howled, becoming even larger. Her tail whipped to the side, almost catching Chris in the chest. There was sharp bone protruding from the end, a deadly razor should he get too close.

Chris holstered his Glock before pulling the shotgun off his back, blasting a hole into Lilly's chest. She howled as she fell, Leon sinking the last of his clip into the eyes popping from her body like uncontrolled pimples, before reloading with the clip Chris had given him.

“The door's unlocked!” Winters yelled. “I'll take care of her, just get out of here!”

“Go!” Leon snapped, turning and running. Chris didn't have to be told twice, chasing after Leon as the man sidestepped Lilly recovering on the floor. Behind them, Chris could hear Lilly's nails clicking against the concrete, chasing after them with a speed that left Chris terrified.

Leon dashed up the stairs, before throwing himself at the heavily reinforced door.

They had come out of the shed.

“Holy shit-” Chris said, eyes on the small building, both surprised and unsurprised that the shed had been the secret entrance all along. The cold suddenly bit into his skin, reminding him that he wasn't dressed for the weather, reminding him that they had taken too long to get their shit done because the sun was rising now, the sky glowing orange. Behind him, Leon slammed the shed door shut before sliding the huge lock into place, this door the most secure thing Chris had seen yet.

They never would have broken out.

They heard Lilly scream from the other side of the door, a very quiet muffled sound, as she threw her weight against it. The thick steel groaned, but it didn't give.

“Leon! What's the order?”

Leon, panting heavily, glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows narrowed. “What the fuck do you think the order is?”

Chris scoffed, spinning on his heels, shotgun ready. He took the spare handgun from his belt, tossing it to Leon. Leon caught it and immediately switched Matilda out for it. Two loaded guns were more reassuring than one.

“Don't give me sass. Let's go get the old man.” Chris said, eyes narrowed at the shed door. “Will your friend be fine down there?”

“No, I don't know.” Leon said. His voice was firm. “Shit-”

They both spun from the door, guns raised as Harold casually strutted out from the barn with a shotgun hanging loosely in his hands. It didn't look like the man had a care in the world as he moved, his feet kicking up snow until he was standing in the middle of his own backyard. He turned Leon and Chris's way, hips jutting out, the shotgun still slung indifferently. He had gotten dressed, at least. That was an improvement.

“Hey, pups.” Harold called, smiling brightly. He tipped his hat before cackling like he was amused.

He strutted forward slowly, and Chris shifted, gun aimed straight at his head. “Freeze. Don't move.”

“You know,” Harold said, still approaching them. He tossed his shotgun to the side, his eyes fixing on Leon, “I figured you would get out. You're a squirmy little thing, after all.”

“I'm a little predictable.” Leon said, spitting the words out venomously, his borrowed handgun raised. “That's bad news for you.”

“And you,” Harold said, his eyes sliding over to Chris, “I knew you would come for him, I just didn't expect you to go through the lab. How'd you get in there, huh? Those doors are locked and I'm the only one with the key. Are you Umbrella, here to steal Evelyn away from us?”

“No.” Chris said. He moved slightly, closer to Leon like Leon needed blocking from immediate line of fire. “We're here for you.”

“Ah. Well. Unfortunately, I can't let either of you leave. I don't know what you've done with Kyle, but that's only unfortunate for the two of you. Kyle hates violence, you know. It's in his nature to round up the kids and take them all back to their rooms.” Harold said as he finally came to a standstill in the snow. He whistled, rotten smile lighting up his face.

Both Leon and Chris' guns snapped to the barn, the massive wolves that had been in the stalls slowly filtering out. They all trotted over to Harold and sat around him at his back, ears perked and eyes on him and only him, waiting for a command.

“The puppy is missing.” Leon suddenly said, gun checking out each wolf. Chris didn't know what he meant.

“What? What puppy?” Chris asked, hands cold as he eyed up the thirteen massive wolves. They were huge, various colours and probably hungry to boot. Chris was suddenly sweating. When Leon had told him earlier that there were massive wolves in the barn, he hadn't quite expected _this._

“There's a puppy, really stupid looking with ears that flop. She's good.” Leon said. “The rest are slowly turning into BOW's, they're good now but they're going sour. Don't let them bite you or you'll be infected.”

“How do you know?” Chris asked.

“Trust me.” Leon said bitterly. Chris huffed. Hadn't they just had this conversation?

“Well?” Harold called, hands gesturing at his sides. His eyes were locked on Leon. It made Chris's blood boil. “The odds are not in your favor. Drop your weapons and I'll let you both live.”

“Sounds like the rest of my entire life.” Leon snapped back. He didn't glance at Chris, but his next words were directed at him. “House in two.”

“Two?” Chris asked. “What happened to three?”

“Two!” Leon said. He turned on his heel and fled, running for the house.

“What happened to one?” Chris swore before taking off after him, not bothering to look over his shoulder as the thirteen massive wolves started to bark in excitement. Harold whistled again. Chris heard rather than saw the beasts come after them, the thundering paws sounding like a stampede.

“Basements a dead-end!” Chris called ahead, making sure Leon didn't get himself trapped. He hated that Leon was in the lead, pale and bloody, bursting into the Baker's home.

“Leave the door open! Let them try and come!” Leon called, slamming through the back door. He took a quick glance around before running for the living room stairs, bee-lining for the second floor.

“Why?” Chris asked, eyes on the back door and the pack of beasts quickly closing the distance to them. He didn't stop to question it, hot on Leon's heels.

Leon stopped halfway up the stairs. He whipped his gaze back to Chris, his eyes dark again and his voice laced with fury. “Because we're burning this place to the ground.”


	8. The End Is Near, Except It Never Really Is, Is It?

**[Tuesday, April 28, 04:44]**

Leon's boot slammed down dully onto the hardwood of the second floor just as the wolves burst in through the back door. There was a howl and angry snarling, wood splintering as two of the canines tried to get into the house at the same time. It was only a matter of time before the wolves got upstairs, but luckily Leon knew that the pack of them wouldn't fit through the door, wouldn't fit more than two at a time in the hallways, would be significantly reduced in their mobility. He had been counting on it. He and Chris could pick them off one by one, before going back downstairs and putting an end to Harold.

“What's the order?” Chris yelled, following Leon down the left hallway where he had duped the Tyrant hours earlier.

“You can take the left hallway. We'll split them up and pick them off one by one, use our smaller size to our advantage. They should come at us in as close to single-file as we can get.” Leon said. He turned around, eyes wide on Chris, his hands vibrating with adrenaline. “Shoot for their eyes and throat-”

“There's no access to the roof on that side.” Chris said urgently. “You’ll be trapped.”

“I'll be fine. I can fit through little windows unlike you” Leon said, the words coming out teasing. “Now _go.”_

Chris didn't argue.

The door frame downstairs caved, the sound of two very large canines bursting into the kitchen followed afterward. Their nails clicked against the linoleum, paws heavy on the ground. They were coming, and they were coming _fast._

“Go!” Leon yelled, turning away. He heard an affirmative noise from Chris behind him, but didn't turn to make sure the other man was following his instructions.

They didn't have time anymore. Leon didn't have the emotional capacity to think too hard, needed to focus on the task at hand.

Leon threw open both doors in the right hallway. The door on the left was a bedroom, the bed frame crooked and shoved against the wall like there had been a fight earlier, the right door opening to a frequently used office. Leon liked the look of the higher window in the corner, liked that he could see snow on what was obviously a peak. It looked like if he was quick, he could slip out onto the roof.

In the back of his mind, he really hoped his decision had been right, really hoped that Chris could hold his own with their very limited supplies and wouldn't get too injured.

Nails were scrambling up the stairs, so Leon shoved the door shut behind him with a loud bang to give himself an extra few minutes. He shoved the office desk up against the wall, making as much noise as he could, and jumped onto it, papers scattering all around him. He popped the window open properly before hoisting himself up and through it.

Behind him, the door burst open, a wolf crashing into the room. It lunged for Leon in the window, but Leon managed to slide his feet out just in time. Teeth snapped in the air, snout darting out of the window for a quick second. Leon chuckled, catching his breath. That had been close, a little _too_ close. He didn't need to unnecessarily injure himself.

“Sayonara, bitches.” With the borrowed handgun, Leon knelt in front of the window, teasingly close. He lined his sights up, waited for the first grey wolf to jump up and snap at him, before shooting the beast directly in the mouth. The wolf screeched, rearing back, smashing the furniture as it went. He wished he had his comm to keep in touch with Chris, even just for an update on how he was doing, but he'd have to make do without it. He wasn't used to worrying about other people, anyway.

The second wolf lunged, teeth glistening in the morning sun, and Leon put it down just the same. A third one appeared in the doorway, the cacophony in the house making it impossible for Leon to hear the beast as it approached. It was unnerving, spiked his heart rate. He waited again for the wolf to lunge, putting down the third.

“Easy peasy.” Leon said a little breathlessly, sitting back from the window. Three well-placed bullets and three dead, very large wolves was what Leon called a good job. The adrenaline was coursing through his veins, making his senses heightened, his instincts and aim sharper. Briefly, he acknowledged that his efficiency was probably because of the Wolf-virus and he needed to monitor himself, but that thought died when the howling started. It sounded like it was coming from Chris' side of the house. Self-monitoring suddenly went out the window.

Carefully, Leon got to his feet. He crept alongside the house, going over the peak of it before spotting another window. He slid down in front of it, his heart racing as he slid a little further than expected in the snow, shoes losing traction on the ice. His frozen hand caught the window well, numb fingers curling around it and he caught himself. He took a breath, orienting himself before scuffling closer again. He smashed the window with his gun, aiming into the darkened room, the noise attracting one of the wolves, and then another.

One shot each. Five wolves down, eight more to go. They were easy enough to kill with his critical aim, but they were a hassle just like the zombies back in Raccoon City. A waste of time. Alone, they weren't too dangerous unless they got close enough to bite, but if he and Chris had stayed down in the field where the pack could get ahold of them? They would have been dog food.

Leon's blood suddenly went cold, a thought occurring to him. _What if Chris gets bit?_ He scrambled then in the snow, carefully but frantically shuffling over the roof to a window on the other side, peaking in like he hoped he could shoot from over Chris' shoulder. He could still hear Chris shooting, hoped Chris had more ammo stashed on him somewhere.

Leon was about to break the window to the empty storage and slide through when the blast of a shotgun cracked, echoing in the backyard. His back had been facing the barn where Harold was patrolling the grounds, waiting for his wolves to bring him back dead bodies, or for the agents to come scurrying out from their hiding places. Leon's back had been stationary and in plain sight long enough for Harold to steady his aim and shoot.

Leon moaned, pitching forward through the window, glass breaking and exploding around him, pain flaring up in his right shoulder again. God, could he catch a fucking break? He tumbled down to the floor, landing heavily, rolling awkwardly because the wound had clouded his vision and killed his grace. He ended up sitting on his knees, a hand touching at his shoulder, a pained gasp leaving him as he glanced over to the new wound. _Shit, if I wasn't healing from the wolf-virus, I might have ended up with a busted arm like-_

Snarling noisily, two more wolves barged into the room to come get him, attracted by the sound of him falling or perhaps, the smell of fresh blood. They were bleeding, but Leon hardly noticed. He wasted five more shots on them, the gun clicking out of ammo. He pistol-whipped a third wolf which was dripping heavily with blood, before rolling onto his feet, Matilda up and ready with thirty shots. He shot the wolf again just as it lunged for him, a massive white and grey beast with dark eyes, snapping for his face. Its claws tore through Leon's shoulder. Leon yelled, aiming wildly, wasting two shots before finally getting his arm into the beast's mouth and shooting it point-blank in the back of the throat.

The wolf dropped onto him, teeth still closed around Leon's arm. Struggling, Leon managed to roll out from beneath its heavy dead body, holding up his once-again shredded arm to inspect it. He hummed in pain, staring for a moment, knowing that the skin would knit itself back together within the hour. His luck really was bad news bears. He was running out of time. They needed to take care of the Baker's and then they needed to _go._

Leon aimed his gun at the door, glancing around the storage room he had fallen into, wondering why the Baker's had so many damn rooms, and why they had so much stuff. This was hoarding, wasn't it? Which made sense if they tried to stay away from people, tried to keep themselves hidden from the world. If Leon could afford all of this stuff, he could retire.

Breathing deeply, Leon stood. His vision wavered, fresh blood pouring down his shoulder, and when the next wolf appeared in the doorway, he really couldn't say he was surprised it was more bloody than he was. There were shots going off frantically in the other room, Chris yelling as he filled a beast with lead.

 _Waste, what a waste of ammo_. In the hallway, Leon shot another wolf in the hind leg as it tried to climb over the others and into the room that Chris must have been holed up in, the two wolves trying to fight through the door at the same time. Something had fallen in front of the door, limiting the space the beasts had to work with.

The nearest wolf turned Leon's way just in time to get a bullet in the eye, dying instantly. Nine down, and there was another dead body in the hallway, meaning the two wolves now looking Leon's way were the last, aside from the third that must have been in the room trying to eat Chris.

Leon whistled, catching both wolves' attention, and they both lunged for him at the same time. He shot at the bigger one before trying to duck under the smaller. The smaller wolf caught him with its teeth anyway, slamming him down onto his back. He shot the beast in the throat before unloading three more bullets at the larger one snapping at him, belatedly catching it in the neck.

Quickly, Leon rolled from underneath them, creeping down the hallway before kicking the door further open to the destroyed master bedroom. A bookcase had been knocked over against the wall, enough space for Leon to easily squeeze through, but not enough space for the two wolves to have shoved through shoulder to shoulder. He analyzed the situation quickly, _seriously_ , before shooting the last wolf in the hind. The floor was littered with holes, both from bullets and from the creature jumping around. The beast yelped as it whirled around, teeth flashing Leon's way, and Leon shot it in the face too, getting it right in the eye. It yelped before dropping heavily to the ground where it lay still. The floorboards rattled dangerously beneath Leon's shoes.

Confused and running off adrenaline alone, Leon stepped closer to the massive broken window where Chris was standing precariously on the slope of the roof. There were paw prints in the snow, the wolf Leon had just shot trying to follow him out but ultimately retreating after it had started to slip. It didn't look like Chris was injured, no blood, no torn clothing. Leon suddenly realized that the only reason he had been able to hunt down the wolves faster was that he was sustaining injuries, carelessly being infected. In his defense, he hadn't done it on purpose.

He had just used his infected disposition to his advantage.

“What the hell are you doing, did you forget how to aim?” Leon asked jokingly, because if his count was right, had taken out _all_ of the wolves except for the one dead in the hallway. He paused then, eyes wide, analyzing himself. He was warm, like his blood was _hot_ , hands steadier than they had been since he had met up with Chris in that lobby. His killing instincts had been so sharp, the sight of blood making his aim crisp, perfect. It suddenly unnerved him, suddenly made his chest flutter, the tendrils of stress and panic clawing at him. Would he crave the blood next? Human flesh? Would he come too with his hands wrapped around Chris' neck?

He analyzed himself harder, searching for any signs of turning.

“Leon, move!” Chris tried to rush forward but ended up slipping in the snow on the peak of the roof. He dropped to his knees, reaching out as he slid a little down the slope, but his eyes were locked on Leon in worry.

The wolf that Leon had just shot suddenly snapped at his leg, teeth clamping down around his calf and dragging him to the ground. Leon yelped as he went down, the beast jumping eagerly to all fours.

“Leon-”

The bedroom floor gave out beneath him. Leon's hands flailed for something to grab onto, but he went through the floor with the wolf. The wolf went first, crashing down through the floor on the main level too, sending them both down into the basement. Leon landed just as awkwardly as he had last time, this time just luckily on the wolf, rolling painfully out of the debris before whipping around with Matilda out. He shot at the beast once, the heaviness still in his chest leaving his hands wavering.

 _Shit._ He was in the laundry room downstairs. His bullet had missed the wolf struggling to its feet, shaking off the fall, had clipped the furnace instead and shot a hole into the tank. Gas started to hiss out, the smell undeniable.

“Shit.” Leon ran to the door, worried for a second it was locked, but he kicked it open without difficulty. He spun on his heel and backed out the door, gun aimed at the wolf again as it stood up and shook out its head. He took a deep breath – he was _infected_ , he was _beyond help_ anyway – before slamming the door shut the second he pulled the trigger, shooting the tank.

The closed door didn't really protect him too much and he hadn't gotten a chance to run for the stairs, concrete walls his only saving grace from third-degree burns.

The furnace exploded.

On the stairs from the second level, Chris was rushing down to the main level when the furnace went. The whole house shook, knocking him down the last few steps of the stairs, the fire alarm instantly going off. He saw half the house instantly go up in flames, heat suddenly making the chill that had settled into his bones _ache._

“Leon!” Chris stumbled to his feet, running for the hallway. In the doorway to the basement, Leon stumbled up the stairs unsteadily, fire and smoke blazing behind him. He had a hand over one ear and a scowl on his dirty face, Matilda swinging loosely in his grip. His face and arms were littered with more cuts, more blood, but he didn't look to be critically injured. But most importantly, Leon's eyes weren't blue. They were dark, and Chris hoped the orange glow was just from the fire and not from a virus coursing through his veins.

“What the fuck, Kennedy?” Chris yelled, rushing over to him to drag him further from the door. He grabbed Leon by his forearm, dragging him so hard that Leon stumbled after him, his lack of balance apparent.

Something crackled in Evelyn's room. Chrissawfire burning through the wall when he peaked in as they rushed past, Leon getting with the program and starting to rush too. Chris suddenly realized he had no idea where the girl was. “The kid-”

“We have to go.” Leon said, his tone delirious, now ahead of Chris and tugging him along behind him. “We-”

A second explosion shook the house. The air became significantly hotter, Chris' skin heating up uncomfortably.

“That didn't sound like the furnace.” Leon said, with urgency. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

Chris didn't say anything, only huffed as he rushed after Leon. They threw open the front door at the opposite end of the hallway, running outside before the house went up in flames. They flew down the front steps and back into the snow, the front yard just as expansive and open as the backyard was. From here, they couldn't see the road, were secluded by the trees even on this side. No wonder the Baker's hadn't been caught. Who even knew they lived out here?

Chris hesitated to go into the woods, but Leon seemed keen to get out of the open, moving straight for the treeline.

“Leon, I don't know where the girl is.” Chris said, shuffling after him. The air was colder against his warm skin, freezing to the point of discomfort. “She could have been in the house-”

“Don't worry about the girl, we don't even know if she was in there. What are you going to do? Waste time checking every room when she could have already fled?” Leon asked coldly and Chris hated that he was right. “We need to take down Harold.”

“What's the plan?” Chris asked. “Don't forget about Lilly-”

There was suddenly an explosion off in the distance, a burst of flames bubbling up into the morning sky before the smoke suddenly burned black. It was way up north by the peak of the radio tower, hardly seen over the trees. But the cloud was huge. What the hell had that been?

Screaming, Harold's human cry turned animalistic, echoing ominously in the morning. Leon started to run around the house, sticking to the treeline, Chris hot on his heels.

They came around the house just in time to see the flames from the second floor jump to the nearby tree, the woods about to catch fire on the southern side. The first tree that lit started to cackle, the orange glow slowly becoming brighter and brighter. They needed to get out of here before the whole forest burned down.

“Fuck!” Chris yelled. “We need to get away from the trees!”

“Winters.” Leon whispered.

 _“Lilly!”_ Harold was in the center of the yard, screaming at the sky, a second mushroom cloud billowing up in the distance. He started to turn, shoulders popping from his shirt, limbs and face elongating as he howled in pain, black sludge dripping from his form as he transformed. Chris stared, eyes and mouth wide, realizing that _this_ was the Wolf-virus.

Then what the hell had the wolves in the barn been? Actual Werewolves?

“Looks like Lilly isn't a problem anymore.” Leon said. His tone was odd, careful. He readied Matilda, and shot at the bulbous eye that appeared on Harold's shoulder like he had already seen the monster one before. Chris didn't question it, just pulled out his shotgun. It had been surprising, yes, but this beast wasn't anything different than what Chris had seen before.

Harold screeched, throwing his hands back and howling at the sky with a long, wet, cry. His muscles popped as they grew even larger, muscle sliding over muscle like they had a mind of their own. Another eye popped from his shoulder, smaller than the first. He grew, lanky and long and dripping black sludge, his next snarl menacing and loud enough that Chris was sure the neighbors could hear him. The last thing either of them needed was for a civilian to casually come stumbling over to check out the fire and the odd sounds.

“Fuck! What's the plan?” Chris yelled, reloading his shotgun and cocking it, raising it at the beast still screaming out the end of his transformation. He was _massive_ , standing over eight-foot on his hind legs.

“Just shoot his eyes, he's a small fry.” Leon said casually, a little too casually, and Chris couldn’t figure out how Leon was so _calm._ But stealing one glance Leon's way, Chris realized that the orange glow was still present in his eyes.

_He's not okay._

Chris took the first shot. The eyes on Harold were massive, took up enough surface area to make for a really big target. He'd embarrass himself if he missed, would never let himself live it down. Harold lunged at them and Leon ducked and rolled gracefully away, the blood drying on his clothes flaking off and staining the snow. Chris wasn't sure how, but Leon was still kicking even though it looked like he had lost a deadly amount of blood.

_Don't think about him, just shoot. He'll be okay until we get back to the car._

Leon was careful with his ammo. He only took the shot when he knew it would hit, ducked and rolled otherwise. Harold's attention was mostly on Leon, so Leon kept running, kept the beast turning after him. This gave Chris easy access to shoot out the eyes on Harold's thighs and shoulders, and every time Harold turned Chris' way and swat at him, Leon would concentrate his hits on Harold's shoulders. Nine shotgun shots on Chris' side and fourteen on Leon's, and Harold went down to his knees. He howled, muscles spasming as he suddenly fell to the ground, over-sized right claw reaching for them, eyes filled with hunger and hatred. Snow exploded around him as he crashed into the ground, the sprinkle settling on him as he clawed weekly, still trying to get up.

The barn suddenly exploded into flames, the snow cracking all around it and sinking like there had been a cave-in. Chris jumped a foot back, eyes suddenly on the ground.

“The lab is self-destructing! The residence underneath us might go too!” Leon yelled, before turning and fleeing. Chris swore and ran after him, not sure where the underground hallway was, but figuring that the self-destruct had come rippling down from the north, which meant they could put themselves out of harm's way relatively quickly.

“You're-” Harold screamed, his voice garbled and peculiar as he reached out again. “Not- allowed to- leave!”

“I have therapy in an hour, you bastard! I need to go!” Leon spun on his heel, dead stop, gun raised at the beast before him. Chris cackled a surprised laugh, remembering that Leon had been hastily hanging up a phone call back when they met in STRATCOM. But before Leon could take the shot, the shed and the residence beneath them exploded, Harold screaming as he was caught in the blast. Chris raised his hands to shield his face, the fire hot against his skin from the proximity. The ground gave out, fire exploding and swallowing Harold whole, a black cloud of smoke rushing out.

Chris dragged Leon away, closer to the forest. the two of them stood there panting at the edge of the treeline, watching the snow settle, black flames billowing out from the lab beneath them. Anything that could have been salvaged after the mission as evidence was gone. The Baker's house was gone. The barn. The shed. Everything. Up north, Chris wouldn't be surprised if the well and the old house was gone too.

Chris stood gasping, eyes on the flames, gun raised, expecting Harold to come back up out of nowhere. When he caught his breath, he lowered his weapon. The house blew next, the trees all around it catching on fire immediately. The air was hot, Chris' nerves firing frantically. They needed to get the hell out of there before they were burned alive.

“Think he and Lilly are gone for good?” Chris asked, still unsure. He turned towards Leon, freezing instantly.

Leon was leaning one hand against the trunk of the nearby tree, his hand pressing flat against his chest. He was bent over at the waist wheezing, eyes squeezed shut, nails digging into the bark. He was shaking violently, sweat beading down his forehead, an odd growl like sound leaving him every few exhales.

“Hey?” Chris moved closer to him, a hand reaching for Leon's shoulder. He was bleeding again, was wheezing like he couldn't breathe.

“Don't fucking touch me!” Leon growled, swatting him away. His eyes were burning brighter when he glanced at Chris, the orange glow mostly likely _not_ a reflection of the fires burning around them. He gasped again, turning away. “ _You_ need to go.”

“What?” Chris asked. He stepped closer, grabbing Leon by his shoulder anyway. Leon didn't throw him off this time. “You're coming with me, that's an order. We don't have time for this right now.”

“I'm _turning_!” Leon snapped viciously. He ripped his arm from Chris' and spun where he stood. “I _won't.”_

It happened so fast. Chris was _right there,_ reacting thoughtlessly before he even realized what was happening, what Leon was doing.

Leon pulled out Matilda as he stumbled back in the snow, the muzzle whipping snug under his jaw. Chris grabbed both of his arms before he could do anything stupid, Leon's last shot ringing out deafeningly between them. Panting, Chris' eyes locked on Leon's red ones, Matilda's muzzle only just beside Leon's head, pointing towards the sky. Leon gazed back to him, his eyes empty and dead and suddenly he looked resigned.

 _“No.”_ Chris snapped, forcing Leon's hands away from his body. He shoved Leon's struggling form a foot back, throwing the blond back against one of the trees with his hands pinned by his head. “Oh _fuck_ no.”

“Redfield-”

“You don't get to do that!” Chris yelled straight into his face, not caring how loud he was, not caring that Leon's eyes were getting _brighter_. “The option to take our lives doesn't belong to us, Leon! You need to live, or everyone and everything that you've saved was in fucking vain. You don't get to choose this!”

“Get off of me!” Leon snapped. He threw his weight against Chris but Chris grabbed his wrists and slammed him back against the tree, using his heavier body to pin him, the pure _rage_ he felt to keep Leon trapped beneath him.

“I'm fucking reporting you when we get back. You're officially on a short fucking leash, Agent!” Chris snapped. “Give me your guns and your combat knife.”

“No-”

Chris let go of one of Leon's hands, wrestling with Matilda instead to get the gun away from Leon, away from his face. Instantly, Leon wiggled from Chris' grip, fighting him for the weapon with both hands, enough strength to impress Chris had they been in _any other_ possible situation right now. They grappled, almost going down in the snow.

“Redfield!” Leon snapped, ripping Matilda away just before Chris tackled him down. “She's empty. Fuck off. It was a lapse of judgment. I won't- I- I _won't-_ ”

“Fucking right, it was a _lapse of judgment._ Give me the guns!” Chris snapped, still reaching for Matilda, still wondering in the back of his head if he was lying about his bullet count. He hadn't seen Leon use the other gun, but Leon had killed all the wolves, had fought Harold without reloading. Chris didn't know how many bullets Leon had wasted, but he really hoped Leon was telling the truth.

“Redfield! Kennedy!” There was suddenly a rustle in the woods behind them, a massive creature approaching. They both spun on the defense, guns aimed as a giant brown wolf bounded from the treeline, Evelyn on the beast's back, yelling at them. Chris instantly lowered his gun, his eyes locked on Evelyn, a stupid smile spreading across his lips. She was alive. Safe and sound. She must have fled from the house the second everything had gone to shit.

“This is Rose! Don't shoot! It's me!” She squealed, hands in the air. “This is my sister Rose! She saved me!”

Beside him, Leon lowered his gun with a heavy sigh, gaze turned down to the snow beneath them. He suddenly looked exhausted, exhaling heavily like he was breathing out all the stress. Chris moved towards him, eyes on the weapon still in his hands, but Leon shuffled a step away and holstered the gun. His eyes flickered up, the reflection of the fire dancing in his irises, reminding Chris that they needed to leave and they needed to leave _now._ Not only was the forest burning, but Leon needed treatment, and judging from how his condition seemed to worsen, he needed treatment _now._

“I'm _fine_.” Leon spat. He suddenly dropped his gaze, a line forming between his eyebrows. “We need to _go.”_

“You're still on a short leash, Agent, but you're right. Now's a good time to go back to the car. To the radio tower! Evelyn and Rose, you two are coming with us! Let's go!” Chris agreed, reaching out for Leon again and openly voicing his annoyance when Leon flinched away from him.

“Let's get the fuck out of here.” Leon said, giving Chris a wide berth and rushing forward into the trees. Leon didn't seem to mind the extra company, didn't seem to really care. Chris couldn't help but notice that Leon gave Rose a pat on the shoulder, the wolf yipping and bounding away with more excitement than when she had come.

Leon had been right. Her ears did flop cutely when she ran.

They crashed through the trees, trying to get ahead of the fire which was spreading alarmingly fast. Rose bounded ahead of them with Evelyn weightlessly on her back, Leon keeping up surprisingly well. Chris took up the rear, trying to keep close to Leon, watching him for any signs that he was going to suddenly go off the deep end, that Matilda was suddenly going to be removed from her holster. He was watching Leon so closely that he _almost_ missed it. Only really saw it because Leon's attention glanced down to it briefly before carrying on like he hadn’t noticed there was something wrong.

In the snow, Chris noticed the _footprints_. Hooves and paws. The stride was massive, the prints relatively fresh, maybe an hour at best. Suddenly, Chris thought back to the Tyrant, how its indestructible skin had been hollowed out. He wondered if the body was still out there, if they should go back and get rid of it.

 _If this creature is a BOW, we should take care of it now. But Leon…_ Chris clicked his tongue, but he made a decision. They had evidence that there was probably a BOW in the forest, if not more contamination from Umbrella, meaning the _next_ time they were sent out here, it would hopefully be with a larger team than Chris and Leon's attitude. The BOW hadn't made itself known, hadn't interfered with them once. Perhaps it was just a poor mutated creature? Regardless, Chris felt confident he could leave it behind, could return to it at a later date. He wasn't sure Leon could survive another fight.

“We need to get on the road!” Chris yelled. He didn't want to face the beast, not with Leon as out of control as he was. “Where's the highway?”

“This way!” Evelyn yelled, not questioning the decision. Rose suddenly turned away and bounded off, staying just close enough for the Agents to follow her.

They burst on the highway, the road empty and void of life. Leon ran ahead while Chris slowed to a walk, a hand on his hip. It didn't take them long to get to the car, the morning sky glowing orange behind them as they trudged along, Leon's pace getting slower and slower as they went.

When the SUV was in view, Rose trotting up to it, Chris dug through his pockets and unlocked the vehicle, using the remote starter to get the car going, the heat running so they could drive away sooner rather than later.

“Evelyn, get you and Rose in the back!” Chris called.

“Okay!” Evelyn called back, excited as she slid from Rose's back, bare feet in the snow. Chris almost rushed up to her to help her get her in the car faster, but Evelyn's frozen feet didn't win out over Leon still packing heat.

Three steps from the car, Leon moving towards the passenger side like he didn't even want to fight Chris to drive, Chris stepped close enough to grab him by the collar of his shirt, slamming him down on the hood of the car. He heard the hatch pop, saw Rose and Evelyn climb in through the back, but he didn't care.

“Give me the gun.” Chris snapped. He pawed at Leon's holster, taking back the handgun he had given him.

“Fuck off.” Leon snapped, struggling in his grips. Leon slapped his hand over Matilda to keep the gun where it was, eyes turning up to glare at Chris. Chris wasn't sure if it was because they were away from the fire now, but it looked like Leon's eyes had darkened. Chris didn't know one thing about the Plagas, nor the Wolf-virus, had no idea if Leon could stop the takeover at will or if adrenaline made everything worse. Regardless, a calm Leon was a safer Leon, so Chris decided to use this observation to his advantage.

Even if he was lying through his teeth.

“You remember what I said about, trust, Leon?” Chris snapped. “I don't trust you at all. What the fuck was that, back there? You're not desperate Leon, you're not turning. You're just scared.”

“I don't _need-_ ”

“Will you shut the fuck up and listen to yourself?” Chris snapped into Leon's face. “You're paranoid. You're not turning. I don't know what it is that makes you think you are, but all I see is you acting one step away from mad. You need to trust me and you need to talk to me, because what's going on in your head is not what's actually going on at all, and I still intend to get you home in one piece. And I think deep down, you want to go home too. Safely. But we can't be safe if you're tripping out and waving your gun around. And even if I trust you won't do it, I still can't focus on getting us out of here. Do you understand?”

Leon clicked his tongue, snapping his head away so he didn't have to look at him.

“You're not a danger to me.” Chris said. He wanted to shake Leon for emphasis before backing off, letting the agent up. “You're only a danger to yourself. Now hand over your gun and your knife before I have to take them from you.”

Leon got up slowly, eyes cast down. He rolled off the hood of the car with grace, silently stalking to the passenger-side door, stubbornly keeping his weapons. “We need to go.”

As if on cue, an explosion sounded behind them. Black smoke began to rise above the treeline, more black smoke than Chris could deem safe. He huffed, moving to the driver's side, getting into the rapidly warming car. In the back, Rose had laid down comfortably where Chris had dropped the seat down the day prior, the weapon Leon had brought almost jokingly still wrapped up in a tarp, hidden from view. Evelyn nor Rose seemed to notice its presence, and Chris really hoped they wouldn't have to _use_ it. Evelyn had buckled her seat belt, her eyes locked on the back of her hands in her lap. The poor girl was still in her pajamas, didn't even have shoes on. She looked ready to cry, but stubbornly didn't

In the passenger seat, Leon turned his gaze to the window and refused to look Chris' way. He was shutting off, shutting down.

Chris glanced at the sky once again, the black clouds of smoke, before shoving the key into the ignition and making an illegal u-turn in the middle of the road. They were alive, had saved the day again. For now.

But everything was a damn mess. When they got back to the states, Chris doubted they would be in any less trouble than when they had left.


	9. In Conclusion, Communication Can Prevent A Lot Of Problems

**[Tuesday, April 28, 06:00]**

_Bzzt, bzzt. Bzzt, bzzt._

Leon groaned, eyes prying open as he forced himself to move. His head was throbbing, veins burning, his chest a hollow pit that made him cringe as he slowly woke. He felt hungover, more hungover than he had ever felt in his entire life. He straightened in his seat, immediately realizing that his head had been pressed against the cold car window, his neck stiff and sore from the position. Blinking away the sleep, he glanced over to the sound of his phone vibrating angrily in the cup holder where he had left it all night.

Chris glanced his way from the driver's seat but didn't move to touch the phone. The vehicle wasn't moving, was parked, and when Leon glanced over his shoulder to the back seat, Evelyn was unbuckled and passed out too, her head pillowed on Rose, face buried in the soft fur. Her sinuses would be clogged when she woke up, granted she wasn't immune to it from her Lycanthropy.

Groaning, Leon reached for his phone, checking the caller I.D just in time for the frozen android to die in his hands, battery-life sucked away by the frigid temperature. _At least I'm consistently dodging this call._

He had promised the President he would go to therapy until he was cleared, something about _Spain_ and _Ashley_ making the President suspicious about Leon's mental state, but in the end, Leon had weaseled his way out of every single session this month. He had ended the call short the day before, and now he wasn't even bothering to answer.

He had out foot out the door already.

“Was it important?” Chris asked, sounding uninterested. He was leaning against the door panel, staring outside.

Leon dropped the phone back into the cup holder, glancing out the windshield. The heat was still on, keeping the cab warm. It was too warm. Leon was _way too_ warm. He refrained from clutching at his chest, the pain intensifying, throbbing. If he focused, he thought he could feel something squirming inside of his chest cavity.

They were on the secret tarmac in the backwoods, parked off to the side. The weather had turned, was overcast and chilly just like it had been the morning before. Hidden from the dirt road that had taken them to the main highway, they were parked near the tree-line but not too close. They were waiting. Sitting ducks.

Confused, Leon stretched subtly in his seat, shifting so that he was sitting up properly, his hand gently touching his chest before pulling away, not wanting to alarm Chris to the fire burning in his heart. His head was spinning, a dull headache pounding behind his eyes. He hoped it was from lack of sleep, but judging from how hot he was, sweat dripping down his temple, he didn't think so. His hair felt gross, his skin gross, his body-

Leon shuddered, eyes fluttering closed again. His head was _throbbing_. He'd been to hell and back on multiple occasions, but this one was the cherry on top.

“Hey?” Chris asked again when Leon didn't answer. Leon heard him turn his way, but he didn't look.

After a moment, Leon turned to respond. His eyes dripped down to Chris' neck before he could say anything, his lips parted, mouth open. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular, but he did catch himself staring hungrily like he could see that vein pulsating underneath Chris' jaw. _Shit. I don't think I'll make it past the border, let alone back to STRATCOM._ Leon glanced away, mouth dry.

“Are you okay?” Chris tried again.

Leon hummed in response, hoping Chris would accept it as an affirmative noise. He placed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes again, the recent events coming back to him immediately. They hadn't even stuck around to confirm if Harold and Lilly Baker were dead, and Leon figured _he_ was responsible for Chris' urgency to get them out of there. What if they hadn't finished the job? What if they had only made everything worse.

_Did I fuck it all up again?_

“I need a verbal confirmation.” Chris said. He didn't sound annoyed or stern, just sounded tired.

Leon glanced down to himself, knife and gun still where they should be against his body. He was surprised Chris hadn't disarmed him, but he also wasn't that surprised at all. He wasn't sure what he had been thinking when he had shot off his last bullet, but he knew there was no way to excuse it. He had known the gun still had one shot, he had _known._ He hadn't wanted to- he didn't _want to_ -

Leon sighed, head going back to the window, eyes closing against the sun. He couldn't honestly say he regretted it and still hoped he would get out of this. He couldn't honestly say he wished he was dead though, knew he needed to face the music and just _deal_ with this.

He knew better. This was finally it, wasn't it? This unfortunate ending was all because of what had happened in Spain. _This all started at the RPD. Everything just builds up and gets worse._

“I'm great.” Leon said belatedly. His voice was rough, gruff, laced with tension. He could feel his heartbeat throughout his body, could feel the burn of his own blood rushing through his veins. His head hurt worse than a migraine, his internal frustrations clawing to be unleashed, to slaughter something nearby until he could sigh contently.

Leon took a deep breath. _Keep your stress levels in check. You can fight it, but eventually, it will be too much. Just try your best not to lose control._

“You don't look great.” Chris said, but he didn't push it. He didn't even look Leon's way, still staring out the window. “I called for our ride. The chopper should be here soon. You slept maybe an hour at best.”

Leon didn't respond, eyes still closed as he focused on the burn inside of him, wondering if he could feign sleep and get Chris to shut up.

“I don't want to push my luck, but can you talk to me for a second?” Chris asked. Leon felt his gaze turn to him, felt those eyes on him, and he couldn't help but sigh. Of _course._ This was why Leon hated having partners, hated opening up. Part of him knew he had to get over what Krauser had done to him, but a larger part of him was still apprehensive of letting anyone get too close.

And now it was possible that he was going to turn and be put down.

“I'd like to nap before we get in the air.” Leon said, trying to kill the conversation while he had the chance.

“Did you do it because you're infected?” Chris asked anyway. He didn't sound curious, he sounded critical. “Is it the Plagas?”

Leon didn't respond. He didn't even open his eyes. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to that, because at the end of the day, he wasn't exactly sure _what_ was coursing through his veins. Some sort of disgusting combination of the Plaga and the Wolf-virus combined. He didn't know what was going to happen. He wondered if maybe he should try and convince Chris to leave him behind.

 _Every time I go on a mission, a chopper or a plane goes down._ What would happen if he turned while they were in the air? He would kill everyone. He'd lose more people.

Leon swallowed thickly.

“Hey.” Chris tried again, his tone getting a touch more annoyed. “Can you speak? Are you mute? I know you're worried about harming everyone, but I think that worry will be enough to keep you in one piece until we get back. You're not going to turn. You won't.”

“You don't know that.” Leon said. He had already looked Chris up like something he could easily kill and sink his teeth into. Leon wasn't an expert at mutations, but he could make an educated guess that he didn't really _have a lot of time._ He had gotten lucky in Raccoon city. He had gotten lucky Krauser hadn't straight up killed him. And then he had gotten lucky in Spain.

Eventually, the luck would run out.

“Leon.” Chris said. The car shifted when Chris turned in his seat, his tone more critical than before. “What happened when we lost communication?”

Leon groaned, rubbing at his forehead. Why were they still talking? “When?”

“When Harold took your comm.” Chris said, his tone coming out a little harsher. “Were you injected with something? Did they throw you in a vat of the virus? Gassed?”

“It's none of your concern.” Leon said.

“It kind of is, considering you're convinced you're going to turn bad and we're about to be in the air for eight hours.” Chris said. He cleared his throat, and when Leon glanced to him, Chris was looking at the back seat. He lowered his voice, tried to keep his short temper in check. “When we get back to STRATCOM, and I swear to God, I am taking you back there half-feral or not, I need to know what to tell them.”

“It will be too late.” Leon said.

“It might not be.” Chris said.

“It will.” Leon said.

“It might not.”

Leon huffed. He cut Chris a dirty look, but he couldn't help but smile at the stubborn bastard. “Agent Redfield. Consider me DOA-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Chris snapped. He cleared his throat again, lowering his voice. “If you're so certain you're going to turn and you're dead set on throwing your own life away and saving people from yourself, then get this into your head: the science lab would benefit from knowing what virus you have. So even if you fucking turn on the chopper, I want you to sit pretty until we get back to STRATCOM, and then you can harass the science department to your heart's content. You're selfless, Leon, and the fact that you're being selfish right now means it's worse than what I think it is. So. What is it?”

Leon chuckled at that, turning his head away. He had a damn headache. He placed a hand back to his forehead, closing his eyes again. His mouth was dry, but he hated that Chris really had a point. Leon's silence wouldn't help anyone, and if he was destined to turn and die anyway, either no one would ever know the dangers when mixing Plaga and Wolf, or the scientists would realize what had happened to him anyway. Or in the future, when another little bright-eyed Agent ran into the deadly combo... _Either way…_

“It's a mix of the Plaga and the Wolf-virus. It's mutated and worse than the originals.” Leon said. He didn't intend to elaborate. _I don't have much time._

Chris hummed, unsatisfied. “How did you get the viruses?”

Leon clicked his tongue. He _supposed_ if he was going to die, he might as well admit that he had fucked up in Spain. If he didn't make it back to the President himself, someone should at least inform the man that Leon understood now what had gone wrong.

If Ashley hadn't taken her own life, maybe Leon never would have ended up in this situation. If Ashley hadn't taken her own life, maybe Leon already would have known about the Plaga.

_Don't blame her. Without the Plaga, the Wolf-virus would have already taken over._

“Apparently, I didn't kill the Plagas in Spain. The egg was only rendered dormant. When I returned with Ashley, the science department didn't know where to look or what to look for. The dormant egg was missed in both of us.” Leon said simply. He sighed, eyes closing.

“Jesus.” Chris said. “And the wolf-virus?”

Leon tried to wet his tongue, but he was dry. Too dry. “I was bit on my way to the tower. That's how I ended up on the property. One of the Werewolves dragged me through the woods.”

“Werewolves?” Chris asked.

“Okay, you know what? It's a long story.” Leon sighed, realizing that Chris probably knew nothing of what Winters had explained. “I'll just write it all in the report. I need a nap. Stop talking to me.”

“So you think you're going to make it back to STRATCOM in one piece, coherent enough to write a detailed entire report?” Chris asked. He was looking at Leon, and Leon met his gaze briefly before turning back to the window.

Chris had a _good point._

Leon tilted his forehead into the cold window again, eyes closed. His head was throbbing, the clock ticking. He knew what he needed to do, he just hated the idea. Why couldn't Chris just stop?

“ _Leon._ ”

“I _know_ , shut up.” Leon said. He sighed again, hand to his face. He didn't even know where to _start._ What was important? What did Chris need to know now, right away before anything else? He could die with the critical information on _how_ the virus had successfully mutated without killing him, could die knowing that Winters had been involved, had been the backbone to the operation, the entire time. They didn't even know if Winters was _dead._

Leon sighed, sinking into the window, feeling just as small as he had back in the President's office. “How long until the chopper gets here?”

“Not too long.” Chris said. “Enough time to get a story from you.”

Leon doubted that. But if he was going to die, he owed an explanation. If he was going to die, he could at least talk to save others from his same, unfortunate fate. Clicking his tongue, Leon kept his head against the cold window, the only relief from the heat within him. He swallowed his pride and tried to keep his tone neutral, tried to recall what he had been told as indifferently as he could.

He told Chris to keep his mouth shut, no questions until the end, and he gave him the whole story. Quietly, but most importantly, he didn't leave anything out.

**[Tuesday, April 28, 06:36]**

The sound of the chopper was both relieving and anxiety-inducing. Leon glanced over through the driver-side window as the bird began its descent, his eyes intentionally avoiding Chris at all costs. Chris got out of the warm vehicle without a sound, the draft of cold air refreshing against Leon's heated skin until the door closed and cut it off. In the backseat, Rose and Evelyn began to stir at the noise. It looked like this was _it._

They were going home.

_I won't make it._

Leon got out of the car, the cold hitting him hard, refreshing him briefly as he glanced at the chopper coming down. He hoped Chris wasn't making a huge mistake, wasn't underestimating the virus coursing through Leon's veins. What if _Leon_ ended up being the BOW in the backwoods? He could already hear that very quiet, very specific _screaming_ sound the choppers made when their blades sliced through the air at all the wrong angles, just hoped that this time, it wasn't because of him.

_Fuck. Keep it together._

Leon stood on his side of the car, tiredly watching the chopper's descent. His chest burned, face flushed from the warmth spreading through him like blood pouring from open wounds steaming in the snow below. He saw Chris start forward the lower it got, tall, strong. He'd go down with a fight. _Maybe I should ditch right now, before Chris can get me on that helicopter._

Leon sighed just as the hatch to the SUV popped open, Evelyn and Rose sitting in the back. He could hear them too clearly, the colours of the world suddenly becoming too bright. Evelyn hadn't said much, though, after half an hour of angry silence after telling his piece, Leon had fallen asleep against the window again.

He was exhausted.

He knew Chris didn't want to lose him, was bringing Leon back to STRATCOM to at least _try_ and save him, but Leon's gaze turned to the woods again, tired and longing and inherently _ready_. He could sneak away. Light on his feet, he could disappear before anyone noticed.

In the very far distance, a branch snapped.

Leon glanced at the chopper, the sound of it too loud, too close. Chris had stooped his approach, his boots no longer crunching noisily in the snow, standing with his hands on his hips as he watched the bird start to land. The trees directly across the tarmac from them suddenly began to sway, the greens too bright, the snow sparkling and blinding. Leon could hear something rapidly approaching, trees snapping in the distance, and by the time Leon opened his mouth and rounded the SUV, Chris could hear it too, was already stepping back towards the vehicle, aware he was unarmed.

“Chris!”

Unmistakably from the other side of the woods, a massive black monster emerged from the trees running on all fours. It was monumental, not the size of the state-building, but tall enough on its hind legs to reach up and pull the chopper out of the air from fifty-feet. Leon didn't see the chopper go down, didn't see the two pilots jump for their lives or the chopper bursting into flames near the tree-line. He didn't hear Chris yelling, hardly saw Rose jump from the back of the vehicle and take up a defensive stance. His heightened senses were misfiring, everything focusing on the monster before them.

“Are you fucking serious?” Leon's eyes were locked on the monster as it dropped back down to all fours. It roared at them, the beasts scream heavy enough to disturb the snow. For a split second, Leon wasn’t sure if he was staring the fabled Wendigo straight in the face, or if this was just a BOW mutated from a moose infected with the G-virus. Its antlers were massive, bowed like the moose that wandered the area, a dewlap hanging from its furry throat, sturdy hooves on its back legs. Its face was elongated, more wolf-like, but it lacked ears, dark holes in their place on the sides of its head. Long, messy blond hair swayed from its skull like a mane, giving Leon the feeling that the creature had mutated from for than just _one_ virus. When it roared, Leon got a good look at its teeth, noticing they were more canine just like its forepaws, one heavier than the other. It had a heavily muscled torso, white and silver dancing across its chest, the beast looking like a misshapen Frankenstein of BOW's. It had a black button nose, glowing blue eyes that locked on Leon behind the car, its tail a whip just like the Baker's had been. There were tiny eyes hidden in its muscles, nothing Leon or Chris could ever hope to hit if they weren't aiming at it point-blank.

Something about the way its face wrinkled when it pulled its lips back to snarl reminded Leon of the Tyrant. Its eyes locked on him specifically, curiously at first. But then those eyes hardened, the beast screaming at him once again.

_Now what the hell are you?_

“Leon!” Chris yelled, rushing back to the car for his shotgun, but Leon was already taking off away from the car, away from the rest of them. The BOW's eyes locked on him, attention caught on him alone.

The BOW roared again before lunging after him, clearing the tarmac much faster than Leon would have liked. It landed over him so heavily that the ground shook, Leon stumbling between its lanky legs. Ducking underneath it, Leon pulled out Matilda on impulse, cursing when the gun clicked. He holstered the weapon just as Chris' shotgun blasted, the monster's attention still locked on Leon sliding through the snow around its feet.

Drawing his combat knife, Leon jumped on its nearest leg and sunk the blade into its skin. The beast howled before taking off, running towards the trees until Leon was shaken off. Ducking and rolling, Leon cursed before scrambling back up his feet, his blood-pressure high, the burning in his veins lighting him up from the inside out. He bared his teeth in a smile before realizing what he was doing. He didn't have time to think about it as the BOW came back for him. He raised his knife to sink it into one of its massive paws again, the heavier one swatting at Leon like it wanted to grab him. Leon ducked beneath it, aiming for the beasts hind leg, but the monster lunged away to turn around. Feeling like an ant scurrying around a boot, Leon raised his knife.

The monster lunged again, pounced like a fox to catch Leon when he was dodging what he assumed would be a longer lurch. It landed over him, teeth snapping out to catch him in the right shoulder. A canine sunk through his shoulder again, the same burning sensation he had gotten from Anna-Mae overcoming him.

Leon screamed as he went down, fang sinking through muscle and tendon. He got a good look at the beast's face from this vantage, could see the clear blue eyes that were inherently human as he stabbed the BOW right in the mouth, blade sinking into the beast's gums

He also noticed, peculiarly, that it had _gills_.

Undeterred by the knife, the monster caged him with its forepaws, the fire in Leon's veins freezing this time, the pain blinding him as the beast suddenly drained him. The nerves in his whole body lit on frozen fire as everything inside of him rushed to his shoulder, like the beast was hollowing him from the inside out.

Leon screamed, control lost. He felt that pang in his heart as he started to turn, heard his shriek turn into a sour howl.

This was the end.

**[Tuesday, April 28, 06:42]**

Chris had seen a lot of shit in his life. He had fought a lot of BOW's, had seen a lot of Umbrella's monstrosities, but this one took the cake. It was one of the biggest ones he had seen, one of the fastest. The helicopter was close enough that the smoke was billowing into the sky, obscuring some of Chris' vision of the BOW.

As he shot at it, trying to ignore the fact that Leon was rushing carelessly into battle once armed with only a _combat knife,_ he couldn't help but be suspicious. It was a BOW, there was no doubt about that, but something about the whole situation was fishy. Chris focused on the monster, on making sure that his shotgun and handgun connected with the beast as he switched weapons, trying not to panic by analyzing what he was seeing instead. His bullets weren't penetrating the BOW's skin, and the many blinking eyes were way too spaced out and under-developed to hit.

It made perfect sense that this beast had taken out the Tyrant, but it didn't make any sense that this beast had gone _unnoticed_ in the forest for so long. Perhaps all those missing-persons really were dead by this BOW? But how did a creature this big go unnoticed for so long? It was smaller than the trees, yes, but even with its severely emaciated figure, its appetite for human flesh should have been _huge._

_And why is it only going for Leon? Why is he always attracting trouble?_

“Leon!” Chris followed the beast out into the middle of the tarmac just as it threw Leon down and bit into his shoulder. Chris shot wildly at it, both his Glock and the handgun he had confiscated from Leon in either hand, but the scream that tore out of Leon a moment later meant Chris had been too late. The cry became garbled, the tendrils of fear icily gripping onto Chris, just enough pressure to be noticed.

“Shit!” He pulled out his shotgun, firing at the monster's face. He was going to lose another partner. He was going to lose another life to Umbrella and its shitty BOW's and if he didn't put it down _now,_ he would be eaten along with Evelyn and Rose.

The beast suddenly pulled its face back from Leon's motionless, bloody form, still standing over him with one paw pressed over Leon's lower body. It roared towards the sky before fixing its eyes on Chris. Chris kept his distance but pushed forward, still shooting, praying under his breath that Leon would roll over in the next moment and cough, would suddenly just throw his hand into the air and give Chris a thumbs up.

No such luck.

The beast screamed as it stepped forward, head swinging from side to side, the screech leaving its mouth becoming more desperate. Chris stepped back, knowing it was a bad sign, knowing that the situation was going to turn for the worse. He remembered Harold sprouting new muscles and growing in size. But Harold had really been a small fry.

This? What the hell was _this?_

The beast howled in pain, head coming down to the ground as it screamed into the blowing snow, Leon disappearing from view as the BOW staggered over his body. Chris took the opportunity to shoot wildly at it, aiming for its mouth as it roared, the only soft tissue he could see. It looked like there was an eye in there. Suddenly, a massive, bulging eye spurted from its shoulder just like the one Harold had, but its screaming didn't stop. The eye was wide open before blinking frantically in its new socket. It glanced around quickly before landing on Chris briefly, before shifting over to Evelyn and Rose still hiding in the SUV.

“Shit!” Chris swore, reloading as fast as he could.

The creature wasn't done mutating. It's scream continued to echo, head swinging again. From the base of the creature's neck, a parasite suddenly emerged, spraying hot blood and black sludge everywhere around it, tentacles flailing desperately as the monster screamed even louder. The parasite was fleshy and dripping blood.

The Plaga.

“What the-” Chris swore but welcomed the easy targets. He holstered both of his handguns again, taking out his shotgun to aim at the BOW's eye. He shot just as the beast lurched back, all of its eyes settling on him.

 _Finally_. He thought, but he realized this was going to be a horrendously one-sided fight because he was almost out of ammo.

He shot just as the BOW rushed for him, finally leaving the other Agent. One quick looked confirmed Leon was still down, possibly _dead_ , but Chris didn't have time for that. Chris shot at the monster as it quickly approached him, teeth bared. The eyes on its legs and chest were too small to hit, the eye on its shoulder obscured.

A furry body suddenly slammed into the back of Chris' knees, and before he knew it he was flopped over Rose's back as the wolf lunged between the BOW's legs. The creature bellowed as it lunged for Rose, missing horrendously due to its size, the beast proving to be angrier and faster than before. The Plaga added to the cacophony, blood and sludge trailing in its wake as it whipped its tentacles, audibly slicing through the air. Rose threw Chris from her back into the snow before lunging at the BOW's ankles, teeth sinking through the monster's flesh. The BOW's attention suddenly focused on Rose, Chris completely forgotten about.

“Redfield!” Evelyn yelled. She was standing along the tree-line on Chris's side of the monster with ammo in her hands. “Hurry!”

Chris huffed, feet sliding in the snow as he scuffled to his feet. He hurried Evelyn's way, catching the ammo in the air as she threw it to him. Along the edge of the treeline, he reloaded just in time for Rose to finally get caught and thrown down, the BOW sinking its teeth into her.

“Rose!” Evelyn screamed, just as Chris shoved her to the side. He grabbed onto her arm to keep her from stupidly rushing onto the tarmac.

“Go back to the car! Get in the car!” Chris cocked his shotgun.

“No!” Evelyn screamed, but she didn't listen. Chris had to catch her again before she ran out into the open, threw her back a few steps so he could shoot without hitting her. Why were they all so damn stubborn?

“Go _back_ to the car!” He hated yelling at kids, but he would hate himself more if he accidentally shot her.

The BOW reared back from Rose, screaming. It started to shake its head just like it had after Leon, stumbling a few feet back. It didn't change though, just seemed to be stunned, rubbing its face in the snow like a cat trying to get in a good scritch. It was enough time for Chris to run from the tree-line, enough time to unload all of his ammo into the parasite screaming from its back.

The Plaga suddenly doubled in size, the parasite desperate as the BOW started to swing more violently, antlers thrashing from side to side as it screamed in obvious pain. It narrowly missed Rose, the beast backing up as it shrieked, paws clawing at its face.

“Maybe it's after the viruses, look! Maybe it got a taste of my curse!” Evelyn yelled, she turned to Chris, eyes wide. “Maybe it's enough to kill it!”

“I doubt it.” Chris said, remembering what Leon had told him about Evelyn's _condition._ The beast had only gotten a taste, it couldn't be enough. Like dropping a single dose of the G-virus into the ocean.

 _Maybe it's after the viruses._ Chris's eyes suddenly widened, locked on the beast still screaming and rearing before him. He suddenly remembered the fish back in the underground lab, suddenly remembered the note about parts-per-million, remembered the lab stating they wanted to find something to reverse the effects.

_Maybe it's stealing the viruses!_

“Every time it eats something, it gains the attributes.” Chris said in shock, eyes locked on the Plaga whipping from its back. It had bit Leon and gotten the Plaga, had bitten Rose and became stunned. The eyes had all been underdeveloped and tiny, like the beast had slowly transitioned into a BOW over time. _Years of buildup._

Chris's eyes suddenly slid to where Leon had been, the snow bloody and stained with sludge. The tarmac was empty.

Chris's gaze shot to the SUV, catching on Leon standing in front of the hatch. Even at this distance, Chris could make out the thumbs-up Leon gave him. He pulled out the rocket launcher he had smuggled over without anyone really caring to stop him. Chris was both relieved and pissed. Relieved Leon was alive, pissed that they actually encountered something big enough to _use_ the rocket on, and that Leon had beat him to it.

“We have to go!” He scooped up Evelyn to save the girl's bare feet and started to run.

Leon waited until Chris and Evelyn were out of shot. The BOW was recovering from whatever had stunned it, was shaking out its head more gently now, the Plaga erect and flailing on the base of its neck. Leon waited the extra second, knowing he only had one chance, before he took in a deep breath.

He lined up his sights. His hands were anything but steady, but he would force himself still, he _had_ to. The BOW's attention turned to Chris dashing along the tree line, eyes sliding to Evelyn. Its lips pulled back, head lowering ever so slightly to expose both the Plaga on its back and the eye on its shoulder. It was going to lunge, was pulling one leg back.

Leon made the shot.

The momentum threw Leon back into the car. He was bleeding profusely, his wounds suddenly not healing, everything reopened and leaking, but the BOW screamed gutturally before abruptly silencing so it had been worth it. Leon heard it crash into the ground in a heap before the smoke from the flaming chopper cleared enough for him to visually confirm. The Plaga was gone, obliterated just like the eye. Thick black sludge dripped from the wounds, the beast starting to disintegrate like sugar in water. He sat in the hatch with the empty launcher still aimed the monster's way, dreading that he had missed his critical shot, dreading that the beast would get back up again, dreading that he wasn't really seeing what he thought he was.

The beast didn't move.

Chris reached him with Evelyn in his arms. The BOW was still melting, still unmoving. The world fell deafeningly silent around Leon, the chill of the air numbing him.

“Leon!”

“Kennedy!”

Evelyn was shoved into the hatch, the poor girl still barefoot. Leon didn't expect the hug from her, was surprised really because he didn't think he had said two words to her. But she tackled him, threw her arms around his shoulders and squeezed. Chris hugged him too, the three of them flopping pathetically into the hatch of the SUV with Leon on the bottom, Evelyn crying softly into his shoulder.

Leon shuddered out a breath, eyes closed. It was nice. It was nice to be alive. But it hurt. It really, _really hurt._

He let them cling to him for a few extra seconds before the pain became too much, a quiet whimper spurring Chris to pull away. Leon pushed at Evelyn still attached to him, his head spinning from the pain of his torn shoulder and arm.

“Are you okay?” Chris asked. He gently pulled Evelyn off Leon, giving the girl a reassuring pat on the head, before reaching for Leon's torn shoulder. He pulled away the ripped corner of the shirt, inspecting the wound. “Shit, are you good?”

“I'm great.” Leon said tensely as he sat up carefully, his entire body aching. He was shivering, pain lacing his every move. Everything inside and out hurt, his head throbbing so bad he could puke.

“Your eyes are blue again. Like really blue.” Chris said. He sounded excited, hopeful. Leon hadn't even known his eyes had changed colour in the first place. _The Plaga?_ Chris reached forward, the back of his hand pressing to Leon's forehead. “And you're really, really pale. Are you feeling alright? You look really bad now.”

“I'm...” Leon trailed off, his eyes out on the tarmac. “Chris...”

Chris spun so fast with his hand flying to the Glock at his hip that he must have assumed the BOW was getting back up. Evelyn was the first to react, hollering excitedly before she flew out of the back of the SUV, running barefoot through the snow for the naked figure lying where Rose had once been.

Chris glanced at Leon with shocked wide eyes, and Leon sighed.

“Remember I told you about the Werewolves?” Leon asked. He shuffled to sit on the edge of the hatch again, but didn't trust himself to stand. He placed a hand to his head, letting his feet dangle, watching as Chris rushed after Evelyn. Leon's eyes flickered back to the beast, worried that it wasn't deader than dead.

Chris knelt in the snow, wrapping the slim figure up in his jacket, before lifting the girl easily and bringing her back to the car. On the way, Leon stiffened when there was movement and sound, his hand on Matilda as the pilots from the chopper came running out hollering from the woods. They were both injured, blood staining their clothes, but they were running regardless.

They had survived.

Leon sighed, chuckled even. All the chaos aside, this was the first time he hadn't had any casualties. In that second before everyone grouped at the SUV, Leon glanced at the sky. He thought back to what Winters had told him about the family. The daughter, Annabelle had disappeared playing by the well, hadn't she?

Leon thought of the BOW's hair, but he could only wonder.

Regardless of whatever that BOW had mutated from, it had sucked the viruses right out of him. At that moment, Leon had been sure he would die, thought his insides were going to get sucked right out of him too. But first and foremost, the BOW had wanted the viruses and it had stopped just after that. Whether it planned to eat him after, Leon would never know.

He felt emptier than he had in months, both physically and emotionally. He felt lighter, freer. He stared at the overcast sky above, chuckling when the first snowflake floated down onto his nose, a cold little bite. _I'm alive, and if Chris hadn't been here, I wouldn't be._

His moment of peace was instantly disturbed.

“Leon!” Chris yelled, he looked a little bewildered. He approached quickly, with Evelyn hot on his heels, dropping the girl he had collected into the back. It had to be rose. The girl was young, younger than Evelyn with long, fair brown hair, freckles dusting her nose. Evelyn was right there in the next moment, adjusting her sister, touching her cheeks and trying to confirm she was alive.

“Agents, are you all alright?” One of the pilots yelled, rushing to the back of the SUV. They didn't even seem to notice the situation, just barged in wheezing. “That monster came out of nowhere! There's no way we're going to be able to fly you all out of here! The bird's totally busted!”

As if on cue, the helicopter exploded, more black smoke rising into the air.

 _The President's going to give us shit for property damages._ Leon chuckled to himself, eyes closing as the world became too bright.

“It's fine. We'll drive down to the border and get home from there. We're only a few hours away from Maine. I'll call the BSAA on our way, see if they can get us a commercial line back or something.” Chris said. He glanced to Leon, eyes searching his face.

Leon laughed, gaze turning back up to the sky. “We're trouble straight to the end.”

Chris smiled at him.

“We'll pop the seats back up.” Chris said, giving the pilots something to do. “We have more people than seat belts now, so we're just going to have to make it work. Make sure you guys have all your gear. I'm not coming back if you forget anything. No way.”

They got the seats in the car back up. Evelyn refused to let Rose out of her arms, so the girl was trapped in Chris' jacket, draped with her head resting against Evelyn's chest. Leon had taken a look at her, confirmed the girl was alive at least. The quieter pilot had handed over his jacket too, helping to cover both Rose and Evelyn.

The other pilot was having a quick smoke – he had almost died, after all – while Leon gingerly slid to his feet from the back of the SUV. They were ready to go now, and despite the fact that he didn't trust himself to stand, he stubbornly did it anyway.

Chris came back around after checking that everything was good, his eyes flickering up and down Leon. Chris didn't say anything. Just closed the hatch once Leon was out of the way.

“Here.” Leon said gruffly. Chris glanced at him before glancing down to Matilda being offered handle-first.

Chris clicked his tongue. “Don't you think it's a little late for that? It's empty, anyway.”

Leon didn't reply for a second, eyes still tiredly locked on Chris. He assumed he was Plaga free. He assumed he was Wolf-virus free. Even if he wasn't, he was confident he would make it home with enough time to be treated properly. This was a gesture of trust, but he didn't know how to explain it. He didn't know how to ask for personal help, didn't know how to indicate that he wanted it. He didn't know how to convey the significance of it, considering his trust for Krauser was haunting him in the back of his mind.

Leon sighed, his voice tired. “It's never too late to help a guy out.”

Chris started at him. He stared _hard_ , face scrunching up before he chuckled and took Matilda. He shoved the gun through his belt, hand coming back out, palm up. “I want your combat knife too. And I'm still reporting you when we get back.”

“Good.” Leon said, ripping the duck tape from his holster and pulling the sheath off his chest. He handed the knife over, knowing that if they were attacked again, he wouldn't be able to fight for long. He sagged tiredly towards the vehicle, Chris instantly ducking under one of his arms to help him along once the weapons were safely stowed away.

“Are you going to report the rape?” Chris asked, his voice low.

Leon stumbled in the snow, attention whipping to Chris' expression. They paused at the front door, Chris leaning Leon unsteadily against the vehicle so he could let him go. Leon had mentioned Harold, yes, hadn't gotten into too much detail and hadn't explicitly stated _wha_ t had happened, but it seemed like Chris had caught on anyway.

Good.

Leon glanced down just as Chris grabbed the door handle. He didn't open the passenger-side door quite yet, just left his hand there, brown eyes still staring at Leon, waiting for an answer.

“You're giving me the choice to keep quiet?” Leon asked. He'd rather not report it, would rather dwell on it for the rest of his life instead of explaining in detail what had happened behind that closed door. He glanced back up, watching Chris' expression soften.

“Of course not.” Chris said. He pulled the passenger door open. “Especially not after Ashley. I'm just giving you the opportunity to report everything yourself _first_. It would be better that way.”

“Then I'll beat you to it.” Leon rolled his eyes, slipping into the car. He sunk into the seat, eyes fluttering closed.

Chris walked to the other side of the vehicle, getting in just as the pilot did, everyone buckled up and ready to get the fuck out of there.

“Everyone good?” Chris asked, glancing into the rear-view as he started the car. It roared to life, ready to go. Chris was grinning ear to ear, the smile only dimming in worry when he glanced Leon's way.

“Good!” Everyone in the back said, but Leon didn't respond, eyes slipping closed. He was light-headed from blood loss, sick with dread and embarrassment, and maybe even shame. He would write the report. He _would_.

He had to.

“Great. Let's get the hell out of here.” Chris said, spinning the vehicle around to go back the way they had come. “We'll even stop for breakfast.”

When they stopped for breakfast, Leon couldn't eat. And when they finally got held up at the border because they were obviously packing and appeared to be 'abducting two young girls', Leon finally collapsed.

He earned them an emergency trip straight back to STRATCOM.


	10. Some Endings Are Really Setups To Better Continuations

**[Tuesday, April 28, 22:00]**

USSTRATCOM's cafeteria had the shittiest, wateriest, coffee Chris had ever tasted in his entire life. Regardless, he got himself a large cup of it with an extra pack of sugar and creamer to make up for the awful bitter taste, the brief nap he had taken earlier on the flight back doing next to nothing to keep him going. He was here to see Leon, and he planned to be at least fifty-percent coherent while he was visiting.

The company's medical facility was located on the bottom floor of the STRATCOM building for easy access to the agents – sometimes, they couldn't go to the hospital for _obvious_ reasons – but the cafeteria was up on the fifth floor with the residential area where only a handful of agents actually stayed. It was up there, on the fifth floor, that Chris wished he had a room so he didn't have to cab all the way home after.

Chris had an apartment off-site. Not too far away, but far enough that he could escape the BSAA when he felt like it. He had made a trip home and back already, was just loitering around the building, finishing up some loose ends before going home and straight to bed. He steered clear of the building's west wing, hoping to dodge anyone and everyone he might know. The lights were dim as he walked, the motion sensors only perking up enough so he could get by without tripping over a fake plant.

He badged himself out of the residential area, tighter security so civilians couldn't just waltz right in, heading for the luxurious elevators to take him back down to the first floor. He briefly considered taking the stairs to kill some time and stress, but after a heavy yawn, he jabbed his finger into the elevator button instead. He didn't want to kill time, he wanted to go see Leon.

The elevator dinged, sounding too loud in the hallway, could possibly attract anyone or anything nearby that was hostile. Chris ignored it as he shuffled in, taking a huge gulp of his coffee, reminding himself that he wasn't out in the field, wasn't in any kind of danger. These kinds of thoughts were normal after an assignment. He knew that with a solid night's rest and a decent cup of coffee in the morning, the lingering paranoia would fade away.

But for some people, it just didn't go away.

On the main-level, Chris followed the blue line on the floor to the medical wing. The secretary only smiled at him on his way past the automatic doors, didn't stop him from entering. He quietly disappeared into one of the furthest rooms in the back with nothing but his coffee and a smile on his face. He let the door swing mostly shut behind him, the clean, sterile smell making his nose wrinkly. The lights were all off, nothing but a dim, obscured plug-in to light up the floor. The gentle beeping was reassuring, Chris' footsteps sounding much too loud on the linoleum beneath his shoes as he moved around the partially drawn curtain.

“Why haven't you gone home?” Leon sounded tired still, obviously hadn't slept at all. He was lying in one of the hospital beds looking uncomfortable but too tired to do anything about it. All the blankets and cushions were piled up beside him so he could lay over them like they were a body pillow. This wasn't how Chris had left him hours ago, but the calm, almost sleepy, atmosphere was a pleasant surprise.

Chris chuckled, pulling the curtain closed as he passed it. He found the chair he been kicked out of earlier, before he had spent the next several hours getting all of his shit sorted out. The second they had landed back in the states, the whole group of them had been whisked away for medical attention. The Baker girls had been taken to their own private room with security, both to keep them _in_ and to keep other people _out_ , the pilots already treated and sent home. Chris had been released after a quick check-up, but naturally, Leon had been held back. He'd been given a blood transfusion and a saline drip, the colour slowly returning back to his face.

“I already went home.” Chris said as he settled into the chair. He had gone home to shower and change clothes before Claire had called him, demanding to know if he was alright. He had come straight back to drop in to see his superior, to get that out of the way before filling out his report on what had happened. He'd spent a couple of hours on the report, yet the file was still mostly empty. He found for once he didn't know _how_ to explain.

“Why didn't you stay home?” Leon asked. He was still wearing his gross clothes from the assignment, was still dirty and caked in blood. But his shoulder and arm had been cleaned and wrapped, and after some of the sludge and other things had been removed from his hair to be sent to the science lab, other questions had arisen. Chris had been kicked out of the room then, had gone on his way to get some stuff done before coming back. He wondered if Leon had gotten any good news in the past few hours.

“I had other things to do first.” Chris said. He took another sip of his shitty coffee, grimacing. God, this coffee was awful. He missed it. “How are you feeling?”

“Is that STRATCOM coffee?” Leon asked instead. He made a grossed out face when Chris took another sip.

Chris chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, it's our shitty coffee. Nothing like a mouthful of this first thing in the morning before the boss wrings you out for something you did last week.”

“It'll keep you wide awake, that's for sure.” Leon said. He sighed, eyes fluttering heavily. “You should really go home. Go to bed.”

“Wow, shocker. You almost sound like you care. Have you slept at all?” Chris asked.

“Nah.” Leon said dismissively. He tiredly gestured with his right hand, drawing attention to the IV. He was looking better, at least. “I'm virus-free. Guess that BOW really did suck it out of me. I'm hoping the second this is done they'll let me leave. This bed isn't the worst thing I've slept on, but it's pretty bad.”

Chris didn't respond immediately, contemplating his options. It was good that Leon was virus-free, but that was really the only positive they had. Obviously, Chris had come here for a reason, partially because of the report still sitting on his desk, partially because he was a decent human being and cared about the people he worked with. He sighed, and Leon sighed in advance too.

“Leon, they're probably not going to let you-”

“I told them. Everything.”

Chris shut his mouth, eyes sliding over to Leon. He didn't ask for clarification, and Leon didn't repeat himself or elaborate. Those tired eyes just stared at Chris long and analyzing before Leon finally sighed again. He seemed to sink into his mound of blankets, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He suddenly looked less prickly, less stubborn. He looked tired and lost and sad, those soft puppy eyes fluttering open, sliding up to Chris, reminding him of the man Claire had first described after meeting him in Raccoon city.

“You made a good point about admitting to things before someone else had a chance to lay it all out. So I beat you to it. You can fill out your report without worrying about it. Just say what you need to say.” Leon said. When he glanced up, he looked far away. “It wasn't that hard, I was half delirious anyway. I told them that the incident with the gun only happened because I knew I was infected. And there's no evidence of what Harold did, which probably makes it worse, to be honest. Maybe I made it all up. You didn't even see anything, you know.”

 _You didn't even see anything, you know._ The way Leon had said that made Chris suspicious. _And there's no evidence of what Harold did._

“You didn't make it all up.” Chris stated firmly, distinctively remembering the way Leon had looked, stumbling out from behind that locked door. Chris remembered he had _known. But we hadn't had time to deal with it._ “Don't open up about it because I threatened you to. You should do this for yourself.”

“I'm not intimidated by you. I could kick your ass any day.” Leon said. He said it like a quip, a smirk accompanying his words. Chris wouldn't pass down a chance to spar, but it seemed like Leon was trying to evade the heavy topic at hand.

“I don't think you could.” Chris said, smirking right back. “But I'm serious. Do this for yourself. Don't push yourself to just bottle it up and forget about it.”

Leon huffed, opened his mouth like he was going to argue, but Chris beat him to it. It looked like Leon was shutting down, turning inward.

“I've lost a lot of my teams. My partners.” Chris said, voice softening in honesty. “My last partner was a mole and because I was oblivious, people died on my watch. When I got back a few months ago, I denied visiting the counselor. Honestly, I go see her every time I get back from an assignment because something always goes horrendously wrong. I started doing it for Claire after Spencer Mansion, but it really helped so I've been going on my own. But this time, I skipped the whole, _go see someone, mope about your shortcomings, come to terms with it all._ I argued that I was used to things like this happening, and I just wanted some time to deal with it on my own. Which is how I ended up losing my temper and punching that recruit, breaking my hand, and ending up on this assignment with you. If I had gone to the counselor, like usual, _protocol_ basically, you probably would have gotten someone else on this assignment.”

Leon stared, his mouth firmly closed. He stared so long that Chris almost started to talk again, but Leon finally voiced his question quietly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Chris shrugged, eyes sliding away. “I'm just explaining, I guess. That I ended up in detention with you because I skipped one counseling session and- you know what? It doesn't matter.”

“Well, you seemed to think it mattered a minute ago.” Leon said. He didn't sound like he was teasing. Didn't sound annoyed either.

“You just… you look like you haven't spoken to a counselor. Ever. Never in your life. And after knowing you for the past, what? Day and a half? You sound like the kind of person who would benefit from seeing someone.” Chris said. “It's the way you just _go_ , jumping straight into the fray. The way you let the infection take away your self-preservation. And even right now you're trying to hide it?”

Leon chuckled at that. Chris had expected Leon to slink into his shell at the topic and maybe tell Chris to leave, but Leon simply looked amused. “Would you believe me if I said I was restricted from visiting the guidance counselor at the police academy?”

Chris didn't need coffee. His attention considerably perked in curiosity. “The police academy?”

“Yeah, it was the _reason_ I went to Raccoon city. Honestly, I could have been a basic officer making a basic wage. But on my first day of work, I had to put down all the men who would have been part of my team.” Leon said casually like he was merely discussing the weather. Chris wondered if that had anything to do with Leon's dislike for teams. “Anyway, at the academy, I was in the counselor's office so often that eventually I wasn't allowed on that floor. I wasn't even allowed in that office unless I had an appointment, and it got to the point where they threatened to dock some of my marks if I continued to go.”

Chris laughed. “Sounds like you've always been trouble. Why were you there so much?”

“For guidance. Information, really.” Leon laughed. “I just needed to _know_ what he knew. I always preferred to have the answers written down _somewhere_ , so I kept harassing everyone to broaden my knowledge pool. I thought that one day, in the field, something bad would happen, and I would remember what Mr. so-and-so said ten years ago, and I would be able to make a better split-second decision and save more lives.”

“Ass-kisser.” Chris laughed. “Did he tell you anything that stuck out?”

Leon's smile dimmed, eyes still locked on Chris. He visually hesitated, eyes briefly flickering away before coming back to him. “Once I got to Raccoon city, nothing I learned was applicable, and nothing has been applicable ever since. He was right about one thing.”

“He told you something that stuck.” Chris said, mostly to satisfy his own curiosity. “What did he say?”

Leon stared, cut Chris a small grin. “Guess.”

“Oh, I love guessing.” Chris said. “Did he tell you that even if you read all the textbooks in the world, you still might not have the answers? Or worse? One of those books might be lying to you?”

“No.” Leon laughed. “But you're not wrong. After working this job, I don't trust anything anyone says anymore.”

“I can second that.” Chris laughed. “Strange noise in the basement? Probably a BOW. The weird guy who looks a little too flashy trying to blend in with the crowd? Probably a member of Umbrella.”

Leon didn't respond, his eyes on Chris, analyzing him. The silence settled between them like the snow had, gently floating down covering them up.

“You should go home.” Leon said. He purposefully yawned, eyes drooping shut. “Really. You should get some sleep. Who knows what kind of trouble we'll be in tomorrow. We didn't exactly act appropriately.”

“You let me guess once and then don't tell me the answer?” Chris asked. He scooted forward in the chair, coffee finished.

“Nope.” Leon said. “You have to guess.”

“That's not how the guessing-game works. You have to spill the beans.” Chris said. “I'm not leaving until you spill the beans.”

“Guess you're going to be here all night then.” Leon said. “Which you won't be. Because you're going to go home. To bed.”

Chris glanced over to Leon, looking small and perhaps a little broken in that hospital bed. His eyes were heavy-lidded, a little distant, but they were locked on Chris and Chris alone. Chris hated it, but there was a certain kind of fire in Leon's eyes that reassured Chris that everything would be okay.

He just hoped he wasn't misunderstanding.

“Fine.” Chris said. He nodded decisively. “Tomorrow when you're better, you're going to tell me what stuck out. You have to. I need to know. It's killing me already.”

“Maybe.” Leon teased. “Maybe I'll forget what we were talking about and then you'll never know.”

Chris sighed, standing up. “You'll be okay, Leon. And in a month when all of this smooths over, we'll go get drinks.”

Leon didn't answer, those eyes locked on Chris until he finally left.

**[Wednesday, April 29 10:00]**

“You were _reckless_. I _hand-picked_ both of you for this assignment.” The President snapped. His voice boomed in the otherwise silent office, his face turning a faint shade of red. “The damages are extensive. You burned down a total of _twenty-six acres_ between the Baker's residence and the landing strip, before anyone was able to get the fire under control. There's no evidence that there was anything foul on that property, no evidence that anything had been touched by Umbrella. The BSAA sent in a team yesterday to collect data and they came back with nothing. If you hadn't brought back those two little girls, there would have been nothing to support your actions, and even then, they're not supporting much.”

The President slapped down both Leon and Chris' reports onto his desk. The manilla files made a high thwacking sound, the situation a complete one-eighty from the last time Leon was in here. The President instantly deflated like a popped balloon, sinking into the chair at his desk, hands rubbing his forehead as he sighed.

Leon stood a little straighter. He had showered and changed earlier when he had been released from the medical ward. Had hastily finished his report, all just in time for the President to summon him to his quarters. A few painkillers later and he hardly felt the tug of his stitched shoulder, just happy that all his fingers were working properly, that his mobility wasn't completely ruined. He didn't think a bummed arm would turn him bad, but. _Well. I get why Krauser harbored so much anger towards me._

Beside him, Chris stood rigidly in the warm room, not used to being wrung out by the _President_ himself. Neither of them had spoken since they had met outside the President’s office, and neither of them had spoken since the President had started to go off not quite thirty minutes ago. Leon had kept his attention focused ahead, but he could tell Chris was struggling to keep his composure.

With his eyes closed, fingers still pressing at his temples, the President sighed heavily. “You're both temporarily suspended.”

Leon's eyes widened in shock, Chris' mouth audibly opening. Leon cut Chris a quick glance, _shut your mouth,_ before turning his attention back to the President. They both remained quiet, the silence deafening, both schooling their expressions as the President stood up suddenly, hands on the desk. He fixed both men with a hardened look.

“Yes, both of you are on temporary suspension as of right now. Agent Kennedy.” The President snapped. Leon made sure to keep his eyes on the man, already knowing where this was going, already knowing what the problem was. The President huffed, hands on his waist like he didn't know what to say. “You're on official suicide watch. As soon as you're done here, you will have fifteen minutes to report back down to the medical ward. I should never have agreed to send you out in the first place. I should have taken more action after what had happened with Ashley, and for that, I am truly sorry. But I trusted you to inform me if you needed help, and you didn't. I will not make the same mistake again, you're too valuable.”

 _Too valuable. Just a tool._ Leon's chest went cold but he managed to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to lie, to reassure the man that Ashley had nothing to do with this, but this was all because of Spain, wasn't it? This was all because Leon had made a mess of everything. _This is the worst-case scenario, isn't it? He trusted me once and I blew it._

Leon tried not to think about what that meant.

“Agent Redfield.” The President's attention snapped to Chris, eyes narrowing. “I gave you one order: to bring Agent Kennedy back alive. You passed. Barely.”

 _Then why is he suspended?_ Leon didn't cast his glance to the side, let his gaze fix on the manilla folder holding his report. He felt _awful,_ to say the least, felt a little out of his depths once again. He could only imagine how Chris felt. He could practically feel the man shifting uncomfortably beside him.

“I will admit, you did your job. But you let him go out alone when you were specifically instructed not to let him out of your sight due to his mental state, and Agent Kennedy suffered sensitive injuries because of this.” The President said, cutting Leon an indiscernible look. Leon felt like he could vomit right then and there. “And on the topic of sensitive injuries, the two of you reported different events. So we're going to have to go over that.”

 _Shit._ Leon tried not to look nervous, but he knew he had been the one to skimp on the report, to simply allude to what had happened just like he had with the doctor the night before. He hadn't _lied_ , but no one had realized what he had been telling them. Chris had probably stated what Leon had said to him a lot more explicitly than Leon had himself.

“And not only that, but we also interviewed the Baker children on both of your conduct.” The President's gaze turned back to Chris. “Agent Redfield, you cannot fight another Agent in the field. Shouldn't you know this? I will be reaching out to the BSAA. You're a _Captain_ , your behavior was unprofessional and inappropriate.”

Chris sounded _mad_. “But he _was-_ ”

“Did I ask you a question?” The President asked, cutting him off immediately. “No. The two of you squabbled like children on the job. That costs lives, just like hesitating to neutralize a threat.”

 _If we hadn't squabbled, I would have killed myself._ Leon's eyes fluttered tiredly. Despite not being yelled at himself, he felt like he was the topic of the problem. It was unfair, mostly Leon's fault, and he didn't judge the irritated huff that left Chris. But at least Chris kept his mouth shut.

“Agent Redfield, considering the violent reasons behind your extended modified-duty, and now having civilians report a physical altercation between you and another Agent, you will also attend mandatory counseling.” The President said. “ _Mandatory._ Both of you will be on a short leash until you're both cleared, until we're confident there will be no issues, not even a hiccup, sending either of you back in the field. Do you both understand?”

Outside, in the elevator from the President's office, Leon stared at his reflection in the wall-mirror as the elevator doors closed. Neither of them had said a word on the way out of the office, neither of them had voiced their frustrations and complaints. It was a ticking time-bomb, Leon knew. Chris was brimming with unrestrained anger beside him, Leon's face looking a little more dead than he expected in the elevator reflection.

Chris jabbed the button to the first floor.

“What the fuck.” Chris complained. “I didn't even-”

“Think of it as a vacation.” Leon said bitterly. After all, only one of them was free to leave after. Leon was trying not to think about being trapped in a small hospital room. Surely they would hole him up in the residential area, right? Could he be assigned someone so he could go home? He could talk his way out of this, right? _It was the infection. I was infected. That's the only reason why it happened. It won't happen again._

“It's not a fucking vacation.” Chris huffed. He kicked the wall, his steel toes ringing out at the hit, hands going to his hips after. “God damn it! This is on my record now!”

“Maybe it'll help if you kick the wall three times and then bark?” Leon asked, his voice flat and dead.

His tone irked Chris, because Chris suddenly glared at him. “Shut the fuck up. This is because of _you._ You need to get your shit together now.”

Leon chuckled, but it lacked humor. When the elevator chimed on the bottom floor, Chris stormed out and disappeared without even saying goodbye. It wasn't that Leon had wanted Chris' company, but alone in the elevator, he suddenly felt like he had that moment he had realized the RPD had been taken over by the shuffling dead. Leon almost didn't step out before the elevator doors closed on him, started to move more out of necessity than desire.

Briefly, Leon considered slipping out the front door. _Where would I go? What would I do, finish what I started?_

He floated through the main floor, straight into the medical ward. If he didn't think about it, it would be easier to deal with. If he didn't have anyone else to do this for, then he might as well just do it for himself.

Right?

He didn't even have to say anything to anyone. His doctor was already waiting for him.

**[Saturday, May 30, 19:30]**

“And we're _back in business!_ ” Chris laughed. In a small classy bar where the BSAA agents liked to hang out at, Chris tapped his shot glass off Leon's again before slamming it back. He hooted after, slamming the glass down, his volume control forgotten three shots ago. The music wasn't exactly quiet, but Chris was still louder than the background noise.

Leon cringed as he shot his back too, the alcohol sliding bitterly down his throat. It burned a little too hot on its way down, made his chest a little too warm. A month ago, he would have panicked. But now?

He was fine.

“Not sure who's whispering in the President's ear, but the curfew was at least lifted.” Leon agreed with a laugh, leaning in closer so Chris could hear him. It was just the two of them at the bar, Leon leaning back against the wall, Chris shielding him from anyone and everyone else. It wasn't too busy, but busy enough to get lost in the crowd. Or busy enough to find themselves in trouble, whichever came first. Leon hoped they didn't find themselves in trouble, because he was already in enough trouble as it was.

“One more round!” Chris said.

“No, this shit's going to hit me in twenty minutes like I'm crashing a truck. And I _know_ what it's like to crash a truck.” Leon said, but when Chris slid him his last shot with a waggle of his eyebrows, Leon took it in his hand without arguing. “You know, I'm not supposed to be drinking. This could be considered coercion. Doctor's orders, I don't make the rules. Knowing my luck, I'll get suspended again on my first day back anyway.”

“I'm not _coercing_ you.” Chris said, raising his glass. “You were going to do it anyway.”

“I was not.”

“ _I_ was going to do it anyway and you just happened to be here participating?” Chris laughed. “Nothing like being suspended for a month to make you celebrate going back to work and actually getting paid! I was getting pretty bored! I started watching soap operas, you know? The Baker girls got set up with an apartment but...”

Well, the Baker girls were turning into another _Sherry_ situation.

“You didn't watch anything. You couldn't have. You've been at work for the past two weeks.” Leon said. “I saw you begging for paperwork the other day.”

“I wasn't _begging,_ I was on modified-duty. _Again_. Part-time. Easy shit.” Chris said. “And don't _you_ complain about _me,_ I've seen you sneaking around too, which is obviously how you saw me. You bored? That's how you get into trouble, you know.”

“Maybe.” Leon grinned, raising his shot. “How long until we're both on modified-duty again until the 'doctor comes back'?”

“For you? I give it a week.” Chris laughed.

“Then I give you twenty-four hours.” Leon quipped.

“Five minutes.” Chris laughed louder.

They slammed their shot glasses together before slamming the alcohol back.

Four more shots and thirty minutes later, Leon was outside in the warm night, hunched over at the waist. Panting heavily, he groaned, both palms pressed against the dirty alley wall, eyes shutting briefly as he tried to catch his breath. He moaned right before he suddenly puked again, his stomach completely empty now. He remembered why he hated drinking, remembered he hadn't really drunk anything since he'd been with Krauser last. _This isn't like that. I know._

Miserably, he swatted at Chris' hand when it slid up into his hair, getting his fringe out of his face. He gagged up more bile, spitting it out with a curse.

“Jesus, you weren't joking about it hitting like a truck.” Chris laughed. He sounded way more amused than he should have any right being. “You good?”

“Shut up.” Leon said, spitting. He stood up, swaying dangerously on his feet, one hand out for the wall, the other for Chris. “Told you. Hits like trucks.”

“You did. Looks like I still don't know how to listen and like you don't know how to say no.” Chris laughed. “I'll get us a cab.”

Chris ended up just bringing Leon home. He had a small apartment, messy because he had been actually living in it for once, but Leon's apartment was further away and STRATCOM was the last place either of them wanted to be. Leon couldn't even speak a proper sentence, let alone find his keys in his pockets. He had patted himself down several times at Chris' door, swearing all the while. The guy could hardly lean against the wall without falling over. Chris found it both hilarious and terribly concerning.

“Just sit down and stop moving.” Chris said, dropping Leon heavily onto his couch. He kept a hand on him, helping Leon steady. “Don't you know your limits? You're lucky we have one more day off.”

“Shut up.” Leon complained, sitting down haphazardly. He placed a hand to his forehead as he leaned back, eyes closing. “Spinning. Staying right here.”

“I bet. Didn't realize you were a lightweight.” Chris laughed, even though they _had_ hit the bottle a little harder than expected. He was both surprised and not surprised that Leon had no self-control. He scanned the blond quickly, making sure Leon wasn't going to throw up or fall over, before letting go of his shoulder.

“'m not, lightweight.” Leon said. “You're just too big.”

Chris laughed at that as he pulled away. “I can't argue with that one.”

His apartment was messy, but his hallway closet was still neat and tidy from when Claire had last been over. Chris brought Leon a pillow and a blanket, tossing both of them at him. The pillow slapped Leon right in the face, somehow not knocking the drunk man over. “Do you need a bucket? You won't puke on my carpet, will you? Your vomit aim is better than your gun aim, right?”

Leon stared at the white blanket, eyes distant. He held it in his hand like he had never seen one before.

“Leon?” Chris belatedly considered giving Leon the bed instead. Opened his mouth to suggest that when Leon finally moved.

Leon glanced over, eyes half-lidded but concerned. “Chris?”

“Yeah?” Chris asked, head tilting. “Are you okay?”

“Thanks.” Leon said a little weirdly. What for, Chris wasn't sure. He assumed for the blanket. He simply mussed Leon's hair before leaving him on the couch to sleep away the liquor.

He didn't think anything of it.

**[Sunday, May 31, 11:15]**

Chris woke to the smell of bacon. He groaned as he rolled out of bed, his head immediately throbbing, reminding him that he had drunk too much the night before. Celebration or not, he wasn't young anymore. He stopped in at his attached bathroom for some painkillers and water straight from the tap, before shrugging off his sweater. He suddenly realized he had slept in his clothes, but he didn't really care. He shuffled out of his bedroom and into the kitchen with a yawn. Leon was standing at the stove, slightly dressed down, his hair somehow still neat and tidy.

“Can't say the last person I brought home from the bar made me breakfast.” Chris joked. He glanced around, glad he had thought to tidy up a little before crashing in bed.

Leon glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed for a second before he turned back to the stove. He had a spatula in one hand, looked like he had made himself right at home. “He either didn't appreciate breakfast or probably just couldn't cook.”

“Unlikely.” Chris laughed, walking over to the barstool at his island counter. He plopped down, eyes on Leon's back. “Can't say it was smart to spend our last day off hungover.”

Leon's laugh told Chris that Leon was _way more_ hungover than Chris was. Chris stared, not quite checking Leon out, but just staring anyway. Thinking. Wondering. They had worked together once and now here they were, one month later, making breakfast in Chris' kitchen because they were both going back to work again. The suspension had been lifted, and despite their infrequent contact during the whole ordeal, there had still been contact.

 _Thought you hated partners?_ Chris smirked. _Are we friends?_

“Do you remember maybe a month ago, when you desperately wanted to know what stuck out to me about my counselor back in the academy?” Leon asked out of the blue. He flopped an omelet onto a plate before turning around and sliding it over to Chris. He leaned against the island, eyes fixed on Chris and Chris alone. He looked almost mischievous.

“Yeah.” Chris said curiously, wondering why this was being brought up right now, of all times. “I'll die if I don't know. What could it be?”

Leon stared at him, mouth still pulled into that quirky smile. “First, he told me I was naive.”

“Hard to imagine.” Chris said, digging into his breakfast. He noticed Leon had a plate beside the stove, had already helped himself to Chris' meager fridge contents, and had eaten.

“Shut up.” Leon said. “And then he told me that I always saw the good in people, which is unfortunately true.”

Chris glanced up. Leon wasn't looking at him now, staring at the plate he had just given Chris instead. He almost looked embarrassed.

“And?” Chris prompted curiously.

“And.” Leon said, glancing up briefly. That mischievous smile was back again as he spun away to turn off the stove. “And nothing.”

“Don't give me that.” Chris complained.”

“The good in people is also what is also inherently bad about them.” Leon said. He picked up his plate, moving it into the sink, his tone reciting. “Every pro can be a con. So when you get to know someone, you always know how good or bad they can be.”

His eyes flickered up then when he turned around. They were critical.

“Why are you telling me this?” Chris asked. He suddenly felt like he was being put on the spot and he didn't know.

“Because you remind me of someone, but the better version of him.” Leon said evasively. “And maybe I was really shitty to you on our assignment and I think you deserve an apology. For all the shit during the assignment, and even the suspension after.”

“Is this an apology?” Chris asked. “From _the_ Leon Scott Kennedy?”

“Shut up.” Leon said without bite. “I'm not… I'm only apologizing for ten percent. The rest of it was your own fault, you know. You made your decisions and they weren't the decisions _I_ would have made.”

“Ten percent? Isn't that a failing mark? You can do better than that. Does that mean I passed with a ninety? That's the best mark I've ever gotten!” Chris joked. “And what? Are you giving me the 'pros and cons' speech because you think all I see in you are cons? Hate to tell you Leon, but besides your attitude, you have a lot going for you.”

“Shut up.” Leon said. “I'm just saying that...”

“That…?” Chris prompted, enjoying the way Leon suddenly looked flustered.

Leon rolled his eyes. “You're insufferable. Oh my god. I made you breakfast, just eat it.”

“Okay, okay.” Chris said.

When Chris finished his omelet and Leon came out of the bathroom with a washed face, Leon decided it was time to leave. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent the night at another person's place. It was a little jarring.

“I'm going to go, got some things I need to before tomorrow.” Leon said, grabbing his jacket off the back of Chris's couch.

“Sure.” Chris said, coming with him to the front door. He watched Leon get his boots on, a weird smile on his face as he leaned against the hallway wall.

Leon tried to ignore it, but once he got his boots laced up, he straightened. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Chris said, still with that goofy smile. “You're just so prickly.”

“Thank you.” Leon said, turning away. “And thanks for your hospitality.”

“So formal.” Chris complained. “We're basically friends now and could go get drinks after work.”

“We're not.” Leon stated, opening the door. “But if you invited me out for drinks again, I would say yes only if you had a good work-related reason.”

“Like on Friday?” Chris asked.

“And the work-related reason?” Leon asked, eyebrow quirking.

“Paperwork?” Chris asked.

“Fine. I guess that will do. Friday it is.” Leon said. He grinned as he left, trying not to look too stupid. “Goodbye, Chris Redfield.”

“Leon S. Kennedy.” Chris said.

Leon tried not to smile on his way out, the anticipation of the future making his heart flutter in his chest for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, I wrote it all. It was an enjoyable write.
> 
> Edit: I realize now that I apparently forgot how last names work. I alluded that Winters was Mia's sister, but Mia would have gotten her last name from Ethan so... I know. Ignore it. Winters should have been Ethan's sister, ahaha, I know.


End file.
